


A Thing of Beauty

by Shippy-Things (seraphic_gate)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate History, Angst, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Blood, Choking, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gore, Human Sacrifice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Tainted AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphic_gate/pseuds/Shippy-Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without a shepherd in the world, the Lord of Calamity can never be defeated--only lulled to sleep with the pure blood of a seraph.  Mikleo offers his own life for this task, but finds the lord of the dark domain more man than beast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angel in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is Tainted AU. Themes from Beauty and the Beast (the fairy tale, not the Disney version with the talking furniture lol). 
> 
> No non-con, all consensual. Mikleo is playing a game of consenting subservience throughout, and maintains the ability to leave at all times. However, there's some scenes of him being physically harmed by Sorey (tranced) that can be understandably uncomfortable for people. There are also some violent fight scenes. 
> 
> So with that in mind, please continue to enjoy this Tainted AU.

Story and Art by seraphic_gate  
Based on Tales of Zestiria

twitter.com/shippy_things

 

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Angel in the Garden

 

In his domain of perpetual night, only the phases of the moon signified the passage of time. Twisting, thorny things in reds and violets were all that grew anymore, feeding off the dark energy that gathered there. Brambles of quince and climbing roses suffocated the castle walls, spreading in through cracks where no one had tended the stone for centuries.

That was why it was so easy to see that which did not belong there, a pure white being lying in the malevolence-warped garden of flowers and bones. A dirt-covered femur from some decades ago jutted out from the ground near his head. Whether it originated from man or beast was impossible to remember. The prickled vines cut into the seraph's skin skin, drawing blood. That meant the seraphic creature’s heart still beat in its chest.

He knelt in the dirt beside the seraph and brushed its cheek with his thumb, wiping a drop of that red life's blood from a fresh scratch. Its eyes opened, revealing slits of such a vibrant violet that they seemed out of unison with the rest of its ghostly pale features and white garments. They were without focus and blown, unaware of him. They fell closed again.

He licked the blood from his thumb. Seraphim had the sweetest taste, but this one's blood was tainted with the foul bitterness of some drug.  Even this small smearing of blood clouded his senses and made him thirsty for more, but he restrained himself.  Kneeling in the thorns and dirt, he dug his arms under the frail form and lifted.  It was near weightless, this seraph. 

As he stepped along the broken cobblestone trail that led back to the castle’s main gate, the moon glinted off the seraph’s hair revealing shades of aquamarine hidden in the silver.  This one was a water seraph.

* * *

Mikleo woke, for a moment confused as to why he was not in his own bed back at home.  Then he remembered, his name was drawn and he had taken the poison as agreed.  Once his eyes focused and adjusted to the dim light of a single candle lit at his bedside, he saw walls that were once painted crimson with gold inlays, now rust colored and peeling.  To his right, a window had been left half open and likely for a long time, as vines blooming with red and blue roses crept in along the interior wall. 

These were the ruins of what was once a fine home.  The others must have brought him here in keeping with their ritual, but the mystery remained as to why he was in a soft bed with a canopy top and down pillows, rather than locked in a dungeon, or dead. 

Beside him on an antique dresser there was a basket containing two apples and a handful of blackberries, as well as a wedge of brie and a bottle of wine. 

He thought, perhaps the lord of calamity likes his meals well-fed.  He looked at the year stamped into the glass bottle.  By human measure, it was over eighty years old and pristine except for a coat of dust.

The smudge of fingers left in the dust on the bottle meant this lord of calamity must have vaguely human hands, or at least someone here did.

He set the bottle down and continued to inspect the room. 

At the edge of the bed, there were clothes folded and left out for him.  He was still wearing the robe he’d been purified in, although it was looking tattered and stained with dirt, now.  The memory of those last few hours rushed back to him.  He winced, remembering the tears of anguish pouring down Lailah’s face.

Naturally they all felt they should protect their youngest, but Mikleo’s perspective was quite the opposite.  The wisdom of his elders should be protected, not the idle promise of his own youth.

He held up the first article of clothing left for him, a tunic, and rubbed the fabric between his fingers.  It was made of softer, richer silk than he’d ever touched before, and dyed in a deep turquoise.  There were also a set of smallclothes and a pair of laced boots.  He folded the tunic back into place and continued on.

Come to think of it, he thought, although his sacrificial robe was tattered, his skin was clean.  He raised his arm up to his nose and caught a vaguely herbal scent.  A scratch there, it had been cleaned and covered with a salve of some sort.

He was tempted to take the shoes at least because he was barefoot, but left them alone.  

The door to his room was in decent shape.  Its handle gave him some trouble, but clicked open with some force.  The hinges creaked, in need of oil, but opened nonetheless. 

The hallway was in a similar state of disrepair, with more weakly burning candles lighting the way.  The rug that ran down the center of the floor was faded and full of holes.  Doors that led to other rooms were less maintained.  They laid on their sides broken, the rooms beyond them dark chasms.

At one end of the hall was a staircase that led down to the ground level, to an open door where cold air blew in.  The surest way out.  To escape would be such a simple matter, he had to wonder why he’d been left so unguarded.  But Mikleo didn’t want out.

He walked away from the end of the hall that offered salvation, towards the black double door on the other side.  Splintered floorboards tore at his feet.  He stepped gingerly over topped candlesticks and broken pieces of a statue that seemed to have at one time depicted an angel, judging by the smashed bits of wings.  Nothing left on the post where it was once displayed except the stumps of its legs.

He reached the door and felt its surface, how cold it was.  He rapped his knuckles against it, not expecting anyone to answer his knock, but to make out how thick it was.  The solid thunk it made suggested the door was indeed very thick, likely a defensive measure in case of attack back in the days when anyone would want to attack this place. The handle was either locked, or rusted shut.  It would not budge at all.

It was still only metal and wood, and he was a seraph.  He raised his hand, pulling water from the ether, soaking the doors and the imperceptible cracks between them.  Then with a flick, the water became ice.  He followed this with another a splash of water to crack the frozen doors.  The lock, or whatever jammed it, gave way, the doors swung open.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.  Beyond the door was light, although very little of it.  Struggling flames on two lamp posts cast dancing shadows around the room.  In their darkness was the shape of a throne, not so illustrious as the ones kings sat upon in books that Mikleo had studied, but befitting of a lesser lord.  

And a second later his eyes made out the form sitting in it, the vague edges of a man.

“I thought seraphim were supposed to be wise.”

Mikleo gasped.  That voice was so youthful, and although the humor in it was biting, he’d been expecting much more snarling and growling.

“I gave you clothes,” he continued.  “ _I_ _left the door open_.  Why are you still here?”

Mikleo squinted his eyes and attempted to make out the form of this creature.  “Because your hunger has not yet been sated.”

“You’re a brave little thing, aren’t you?”

He leaned forward in his throne and propped his head up, resting an elbow on one knee.  In the light, weak as it was, Mikleo could see a human face.  He had the form of a young man.  They told him the lord of the castle was a beast, not a boy.  That malevolence transformed men into monsters.

The man noticed him flinch at the sight of him and laughed.  “Or do I scare you?”

“I’m just shocked is all.  You aren’t a monster.”

He tilted his head back and laughed boisterously at that.  “I haven’t heard a line like that in years.”

Mikleo took a step forward.  “So you are, then.  The lord of calamity.”

“Oh, only in a manner of speaking.  To be more precise, I am a fallen shepherd.”

Mikleo’s eyes got wider at that.  “Shepherd?  There hasn’t been one in two hundred years.  He disappeared.  Are you really shepherd Sor---”

Before he could even blink in response, the fallen shepherd pushed himself off his throne and bolted at him like lightning, clapping a gloved hand over his mouth with enough force to lift him off his feet and send him back against the wall behind him. 

Mikleo stared down the arm holding him in place to the human face baring his teeth at him.  His eyes gleamed with the dark power barely contained within him, but they were green-- still human, somehow. "Don't say that name."

He relaxed his arm and let Mikleo slink to the floor.  He wheezed for breath on his knees.  “Why don’t you just consume me and get it over with?”

“I told you to go.  Hearing that name makes me angry, but not half as much as a fat, juicy morsel of seraph meat trying to get indignant with me.”

He was Sorey.  Mikleo was not born until much later, and Lailah and the others avoided the subject.  But he’d heard from legends told by humans that Sorey was the last shepherd, who was lost, and never had another been born in his place.

As soon as he got back on his feet, Sorey was on him, encircling his waist from behind with his arm.  Hot breath on his neck. 

“Did the humans capture you and leave you here?” he asked, inhaling through his nose.  Smelling him. "You're not the first."

Mikleo pushed out a tense breath and relaxed his muscles.  He was Sorey’s.  To be eaten by Sorey.  “No. I come from a village of seraphim. When the lord of calamity becomes active and there is no shepherd to purify him, we draw names by lottery to see who will go and be offered to him, to put him to sleep.  If it wasn’t voluntary, we’d only invite more malevolence.”

“So you’re stupid _and_ unlucky?”

Mikleo huffed.  “I fixed the lottery, of course.  I made sure they drew my name.”

Sorey tightened his grip, pulling Mikleo’s back against him.  “So you’re just suicidal.”

“I prefer to see it as self-sacrificing.”

Laughter tickled his ear.  “Why the poison then?  Did you take it yourself?”

“They gave it to me, and I took it.”

“Trying to kill me?”

He shook his head, unintentionally brushing his cheek against Sorey’s.  Despite the malevolence, in the cold air he was so warm.  “It was for me.  So I wouldn’t need to endure...”

“What, did you think I’d peel your skin off first like a grape?”

He turned him and cupped Mikleo’s face in his hand, but Mikleo forced himself to look anywhere but into his eyes.  “The fear and the pain could have corrupted me,” he said.  “So it’s better we feed you an unconscious meal.”

“Not wanting to die?  Wanting to live is malevolence?”  He scoffed and pushed Mikleo away.  Not hard.  This time, Mikleo maintained his footing.  He looked up and found Sorey covering his mouth with the sleeve of his crimson shirt.  “Damn... but you do smell good, don’t you?  Get out of my sight before I do more than eat you.”

“Do you think I’m afraid?” Mikleo stepped up to him, grabbed his arm, pulled it away from his face.  “ _I want you to._ ”

Those green eyes stared back at him and he was met with something he did not expect and could not understand.  There was fear there.   Mikleo released his arm and Sorey yanked it away.

“Please go.”  Sorey pushed him again, gently this time.  
  
Mikleo stared at him a moment more, witnessing the contradicting affects of malevolence and humanity play on his face, and left the hall with hastening paces.


	2. Thing

Mikleo ran down the hall, stubbing his toes and bumping his shoulders against the parts of toppled statue and rotted door frames as he went.

Finally, he reached the stairs leading down to the exit that had been offered to him before.  They led to a stone arc that was once a reinforced double door like the one the fallen shepherd hid himself behind.  Beyond that was a moonlit garden where red and purple roses strangled the remains of doors, furniture, and more marble statues that had not been to his lordship’s taste. 

He stopped in his tracks as the cold air bit into his skin.

He could run all the way back to the village of elysia and rejoin his people.  They might not believe his tale about the fallen shepherd, the beast who refused to eat, but they wouldn’t reject him.  No one among their flock would turn his back on them.  They didn’t punish those who turned back on their path.

What they  _ would _ do, is send someone else to try again.  And maybe that man’s resolve, the last vestige of his humanity that held him back from his carnal desire, would not be as strong the next time.

\- - -

Sorey cloistered himself in the depths of his castle.  The master’s bedroom was on the highest floor, and would have provided a spectacular view of the valley through the row of double hung windows and half moon arches, if not for the soot smeared all over and tattered hangings that blocked out the meager light stars might have offered.      


He knew that little seraph wouldn’t leave so easily after going through so much trouble to force feed him delicious seraph meat.  His jaw still worked at the smell, mouth salivating.  He held it shut with his hand.

if they didn’t see each other, maybe it would just give up and go home.  He wondered if he sent the message “please stop sending me your unwanted things” pinned to its shirt, if those meddlesome guardians of mankind would stop leaving angels and virgins on his doorstep every forty or so years. 

He half-heartedly thumbed through a well-worn book before throwing it at the wall.

The beating in his chest had died down to a typical human rate, but that wasn’t slow enough for his liking.  He shouldn’t have bluffed.  He’d tried to scare that little thing off and gotten to much of its smell into him.  Now his senses were alive again, and he was hungry.    


Hours passed.  A day, maybe.  The hunger did not abate.    


He swore he could still smell him.    


He sniffed the air.  No, that wasn’t the seraph’s smell.  It was something else.

\- - - 

A walk around the castle gave Mikleo some time to consider what he could do in this situation.  Everything he knew about the lords of calamity was challenged in that moment when Sorey’s voice wavered and warned him away.  There was still a thread of humanity in the fallen shepherd’s heart trying to hold back a torrential storm of malevolence.  He put on the tunic and boots offered him and decided to explore the area, hoping to find out more about  his begrudging host.

It was becoming difficult to focus on the task, as the centuries old architecture distracted him.  Humans had so many needs, and that led them to build such interesting structures in an attempt to meet them.  Like the windows that allowed them to gather light without suffering from the elements.    


Well, they would have let the light in back then, at least.  Mikleo noted that almost twenty four hours had passed and there was still no sunrise.    


He wondered how the plants sustained themselves, other than by feeding off the fallen shepherd’s emanation of malevolence.  He knelt to inspect a rose that grew in an impossible deep blue with shiny silver speckles, like a galaxy was contained within it. Its petals were soft and velvety to the touch.  He wondered if these plants that grew out of the dark lord’s power were somehow a part of his soul.

Aside from the manor itself, there were smaller buildings connected by what was left of a cobblestone path.  Freakishly oversized weeds pushed up the stones in all directions, blooming dandelions and daisies, none of them white, but sunset orange and violet.

He stopped for a moment near a building with a big white wing sticking out to its side and stared at it perplexed, before realizing it must be a mill of some sort, missing all but one of its blades.  The others laid discarded and rotting under the red and orange weeds.    


Among the other huts were a barn littered the skeletal remains of some beast of burden, and a silo whose wares had long deteriorated.  Mikleo found them both overgrown with the wild, unruly vinery that started in the garden and threatened to consume everything in its path.

After a few hours walking, a combination of the overwhelming malevolence and the lingering poison in his system made him lightheaded.  He ducked into the nearest of the run down buildings to rest until it passed, a ramshackle hut with a clay tile roof, not far from the manor itself.

He found himself in a kitchen.  It confused him for a moment until he considered that human kitchens must catch fire rather often, so a building away from the main house would be clever. In Elysia, they always cooked over their own fireplaces.  He tapped his fingers against his lips and pondered the resourcefulness of these simple people from centuries ago.

The kitchen was relatively untouched by the suffocating vines, and made a comfortable place to rest, sitting against a wall inside, until the dizzy feeling passed.  Careful not to exert himself again, he got up and began to examine the available wares.  This kitchen was dark and dusty, but it had been kept dry.  It had antiquated tools, but the oven and stove seemed serviceable if he just had some fuel.

In the pantry were supplies that had obviously been added by a plundering fallen shepherd, or maybe those who made misguided offerings to him.  There were some rotten fruits and spoiled dairy inside, left for so long that they dried out and no longer smelled of decay.  But the olive oil, flour, sugar, salt, and pepper were all still edible.

If only he had some meat, or eggs and cream.  If Sorey wouldn’t eat him, then he could at least satisfy his hunger in some other capacity.  The man was still human, somewhere within.

\- - -   
  


Sorey threw open the doors of the banquet hall, banging them against the walls.  The candles  blazed hot white flames, casting elongated shadows over the walls  before dying down again.

That cheeky seraph didn’t even look up at the clatter.  It just stood there in the end of the longest table, the lord’s seat, pouring wine into a glass.    


“I told you to get out of here.”

It-- _ he _ looked up.  After his rest, the fleshy pink of his skin had returned, and he wore the silk garments Sorey left him.  For a moment he might be mistaken for a human youth, but then their eyes met and that violet gaze reminded him that this boy was the same as the rest, the reincarnated soul of a pure spirit.  The roasted meat in the air did well to mask his scent, or he may have lunged at him.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

He growled.  Of course he was  _ hungry _ , but what he felt such burning need for wasn’t whatever beast this precocious water seraph had managed to trap and roast.     


Still, he looked at the plate served for him, and his stomach rumbled.  A fat juicy steak, rare in the center, generously peppered and dressed with gravy.  A few small potatoes, likely all he could gather from the wild, unkempt garden on these cursed grounds.  Deep red wine.  Sorey always knew hunger, but  _ this _ hunger, the earthly kind, he’d not known for such a long time that he could not recall when it had last been.

He reached for the meat with his bare hand.    


The annoying seraph grabbed his wrist and held it.  There was surprising strength in his gentle hand.  “No.”

“No?” Sorey snarled.  “Is this all some desperate attempt to anger me into consuming you?”

“Not at all.”  His manner was as placid as it was infuriating.  “If you want to eat it, you’ll do so with a fork and knife.”

Sorey ripped his arm away from his grasp.  “How do you think you’d stop me?”

He held the clean tray he’d served with to his chest and smirked, frustratingly coy.  “Well, you could overpower me easily and gobble this one plate up like a dog, you could even try to coerce me with violence, but I won’t cook for you again until I see you eat with a fork and knife.”

“And if you do push me past my limits…” His hand rose up again, slowly this time, to pinch the seraph’s chin and turn his face up to look at him.  “Well then, you’re back to plan A.  I eat you, and I have a nice restful sleep.”

“I see, you can be perceptive when you try.”

It wasn’t as if seraphim were predisposed to cowering beneath him.  In his brief encounters with the seraphim over the years since he’d taken this form, they reviled him as the culmination of all human greed and destruction more than they feared him.  Still, it was dumbfounding to see this one serve him a cozy dinner and then have the nerve to sass him about it.

He pulled out the chair and sat down.  “So your plan is to fatten me up one way or another, huh?”

The boy hummed in agreement.  “I made it rare and bloody just for you, my lord.”

He cut his steak and brought a piece to his mouth with the fork. The tender seared meat melted on his tongue.  Its edges were browned and its center was cool and saturated with the blood of the freshly butchered creature.    


“So you hunted down a boar,” he said, still chewing.  He wouldn’t swallow until he’d worked every last bit of flavor out of the bite.  “You found firewood, you picked herbs--”

“There wasn’t any butter,” he replied.  “My apologies.” 

“You must have dug up and scrubbed out old iron pans.”

“That part’s easy, my lord.  I’m a water seraph, after all.”

“So I noticed.”  He took another bite and looked at him.  “You put on those robes, I see.”

“You wanted me to.”

Sorey huffed a laugh.  “It makes no difference to me.  You could keep running around in that barely-there shift for all I care.” 

“You picked these clothes for me, so I’m wearing them.”

After a big gulp of wine, he looked up again.   “Really now?”

He nodded.  “I was given to you, and you chose not to consume me, therefore I am yours, and I will dress however you chose for me.”

“Ah.”  He groaned and pushed himself away from the table, leaving the steak half uneaten.  “See, this is why I hate you seraphim.  You’re things.”

“Things?”

“You let yourselves be mere  _ things _ for humanity to use at their will, confined to vessels.  If you’d taken all that poison to try to kill me, I’d respect you more.  But you just didn’t want to embrace your carnal feelings about death.”    


“Don’t you understand why I’d want to sacrifice myself for the people I care about?”

“If you care about them so much, then go back to them.”

He closed his eyes and smiled.  “Not yet, my lord.”

“And stop calling me that.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I really don’t.”  Sorey grumbled and went back to his meal.    


“Then can I use your real name?”

“Never.  Absolutely not.”

“Then,  _ my lord _ it is.”

“Suit yourself, you intolerable ghost of a person.”

He smirked.  “My name is Mikleo.”

“Mikleo,” he repeated.  “That certainly has a lyrical quality to it.”

“So will you call me that, instead of a  _ thing _ ?”  
  
“Keep cooking like this, and I’ll call you whatever you want.”


	3. Malevolent Heart

The garden was covered in a layer of creeping roses.  Wild remains of what used to grow there struggled to push through, but without sunlight most of them had shriveled up long ago.  He lifted the vines of roses and cleared space around the few that remained, careful not to snag himself on their thorns.    


Mikleo pushed an old rusted trowel into the dirt to till it.

Working in the garden gave him silent, uninterrupted time to think about what exactly his situation was, and what the nature of the malevolence around him might really be.    


Once when he was fourteen by human reckoning, the seraphim decided that he should be taken along on a supply mission to the nearest human city of Ladylake.  There were two very important lessons they wanted him to learn, as well as a third he invented along the way.

First, seraphim were different.  Growing up in Elysia with only his seraphim elder and a small group of resonance-gifted humans, Mikleo had never learned about regular humans and how they regarded the seraphim.   It came as quite a shock to him to stand among such a crowd of people, more people than he had ever seen in one place before, and realize that they could not see him or hear him.  Any attempt to communicate with them by touch or through indirect means scared them.  Mikleo had tried using his artes to help the people there like he did at home, but the people of Ladylake screamed when they saw their empty glasses filled by magic.

Second, humans generated a force known as malevolence.  Mikleo still did not know all there was to understand about malevolence.  He only remembered having to retreat from the crowds of people, feeling like a weight was compressing his chest.  His elders told him that negative emotions like greed, fear, anger, pain, and loneliness caused malevolence to fester.  But that had never seemed fair to him, since these were only natural responses to certain situations.  Nature wasn’t always fair, he knew that well enough.  Still, the workings of malevolence seemed too ambiguous to him to be summed up so easily.

The third thing he learned was something he took away from the experience on his own.  That was that humans were amazing.  The other seraphim always talked about humans like they were some poor misguided flock, but Mikleo witnessed the great wheel they’d built in the city to control the flow of water, the aqueducts that brought water into the city as well as carried waste away, and the fountains that provided free drink as well as simple amusement to the residents.  Their mastery over his own element was rival to his own, and he couldn’t wait to be old enough to travel the world and see even more wonders built by humans. 

He waved his hand over the saplings, letting water drip from his palm.    


When he offered up his life, he lamented only that one thing, that he would never see that city again.  He was happy to give his life for his elders and for the humans he admired, because he believed then that his sacrifice would save them.  Now that was uncertain.

He brushed his bangs out of his face without noticing the smear of dirt he smudged against his forehead and looked up at the dark sky.  Hard to tell if the plants needed water here, when they seemed to grow without sun.

Sorey spared his life, and yet the malevolence in the place had only grown stronger since his arrival.    


He shoved the trowel back into the dirt, but lost his grip on it. His vision began to blur.

The malevolence in this place didn’t feel the same.  It wasn’t heavy against his heart, it didn’t suffocate him or make his stomach turn like a bad smell.  Sorey’s malevolence was like a vibration that made him feel numb throughout.  He found his thoughts scattering until he became lightheaded.  Physical labor amplified the effect more than he had expected.

“You better not be trampling my roses.”

“I was...”  Mikleo took a breath and tried to steady himself.  He hadn’t noticed Sorey approach and he didn’t want to collapse in front of him.  “I was about to dance all over them.”

But he couldn’t conceal the way he swayed, trying to stay upright.  “Whoa, wait,” Sorey said.  Mikleo was falling.

He heard the rustle of Sorey’s cloak as he swept behind him.  Then he was looking up at the sky and its stars were spinning around him. 

“You’re a young seraph, I see that now.  You don’t even know how malevolence affects your body.”

Mikleo closed his eyes to stop the spinning and gripped at what his hands could find, Sorey’s cloak.  “You don’t need to carry me.”  He let his head rest against Sorey’s shoulder.  There was a heartbeat in the fallen shepherd’s chest that thumped in affirmation of his human existence.  Mikleo placed his hand against it and felt the rhythm resonate with the humming malevolence all around them.    


“If I let you pass out here, you’ll crush my flowers.”

Sorey carried him back into the main house.  Mikleo was too weak to so much as protest when Sorey dropped him unceremoniously into his bed.

“You were all smart remarks before,” he said, looking down at him from beside the bed.  He placed his hands on his hips and smirked. “Giving up already?”

Mikleo rolled over.  “I just need to rest.”

“Sure, right.”

\- - -

A long nap was in order.    


Mikleo didn’t need to sleep.  He’d gotten into the habit of it after watching his human neighbors.  They looked so peaceful, he had to try it.  Since then, he’d come to enjoy a good night’s sleep.

But he had never needed it before.  Now, he  _ needed _ sleep.  And again, when he woke, he had no concept of the time that passed.  Five minutes or a thousand years, and he wouldn’t have known the difference.

The moon through his window appeared to be in the same phase as before, but it had crossed the sky.  He hoped that meant it had been only a few hours.

He got out of bed and brushed dirt from the front of his tunic.  Sorey hadn’t bothered even to remove his boots before he passed into that deep sleep, and now his bed was soiled with dirt. 

Washing his bedding might require too much physical activity, and he’d rather not pass out into Sorey’s arms again.   All the same, he needed to keep himself occupied with something, or the ever present low murmur of malevolence would creep up on him again.

He took the candle lamp from his bed side.  A walk wouldn’t exhaust him as much, and he was eager to explore more of the manor itself.  With proper light this time, he could examine his surroundings and hopefully learn more about this place and its master.

In the hall, he noted that the damage to the walls and doors wasn’t caused by the ravages of time alone.  His lord had come through here ripping at the walls and kicking in dents.  He wondered if it was in anger or boredom.    


Mikleo’s room was on the west wing of the building, along with three other identical rooms.  The hall led into the center of the manor, where the lord’s audience room was located, as well as the banquet hall.  Beyond that, most of the doors were locked.  Mikleo could break them down, but he’d rather give Sorey his space.  These last two interactions were enough for now.

On the east wing there were more bedrooms.  He took his time inspecting each, making sure not to strain himself.  There was a clock in one, broken, but if it could be repaired, it might restore a measure of time to this sunless place.  Personal items like combs and jewelry had been left lying about on aging vanities with broken mirrors.  These didn’t seem like things that would have been left behind, even if the residents were in a hurry to get out. The bedding was rotted and falling apart.  He realized that his own room’s furnishings must have come from a more recent source.

He tried to piece together how Sorey had come to this place.  Maybe he lived here as a young man.  He could have been a lord or a servant boy.  Or he might have descended on the place at random and taken it, forcing its residents to flee.    


At the end of the east wing there was a staircase that led down into the servant’s level.  It was pitch black, without even windows to let moonlight in.  He got excited to see more oil and canisters of foodstuffs, but they had long deteriorated.  The containers themselves may be of use, but he could come back for them later.

He climbed the stairs and returned to the west wing of the manor.  Turning the corner, he noticed that the light was left burning in his room.  He hadn’t lit a candle, and there was only one other person who could have.  On closer inspection, there was now a gash in the frame of the door that hadn’t been there.

It shouldn’t  have surprised him to see Sorey standing over his bed, but the presence of him in his made him flinch.  Mikleo noticed for the first time that he wasn’t a particularly tall man, only about four inches taller than himself, but the way he stood there rigidly, cloaked in black and teeming with malevolence, in a place that Mikleo had started to think of as safe, that did startle him.     


He turned a half-step and sneered.  “You afraid of me now?”

Mikleo released his tension into a sigh.   “I didn’t expect you to be here, that’s all.”

He huffed a laugh and stepped a pace to the right.  Mikleo could see a claw foot tub behind him that most definitely was not there before, as well as a basket of glass bottles decorated with paper and ribbons.  “You’re a water seraph, so you can figure out the rest.”

“Did you gouge the door dragging that thing in here?”     


He shrugged.  “Make sure when you bathe to use these concoctions.”

Mikleo lifted one of the bottles and inspected its label.  “Perfume?”  He scoffed.  “Is this a present?  Did you like the steak that much?”

Another sharp laugh.  “It was a damn good steak, but don’t misread the situation.  I found this junk on a pirate’s ship about a year ago.  It should block out that tempting smell you’ve got so that I can finally get some sleep.”

“You sleep?”

“When I can.”

“And you can smell me, clear on the other side of this manor?”

“That’s right.”

Mikleo scowled.  “And the pirates you lifted this from, are they dead?”

“Hm, some of them.  Well, most, if I’m honest.” Sorey shrugged again.  “Where do you think your fine bedding came from?  And that sugar and pepper?”

It did not come as such a surprise as Sorey seemed to think it would.  “Did you eat them?”

Sorey shifted his weight, and the smirk on his face gave way to a frown.  “They were dead, so of course I did.  Where I’m from, nothing goes to waste.  Not an ounce.”

“And where’s that?”

“Nice try.”

Despite his glib attitude towards cannibalism, Mikleo was still finding it hard to imagine that Sorey had committed the atrocities he was told about.  “Do you tell yourself because they were only pirates that it’s fine?  That they don’t deserve to live?”

“No.” Expression left his face.  “If I could do that, I wouldn’t have ended up this way.  I picked a fight with them because I was bored, and I killed them because they were too stupid to run away.” 

Mikleo fell silent at that.  He stood thinking for several soundless moments.  Then he began pulling at the buttons on his silk tunic.

“What are you doing?”

He tugged the blouse down over his shoulders.  “You want me to bathe, don’t you?  Are you staying here to watch, or will you leave?”

Sorey turned his back against Mikleo and the tub.  “I’m not done talking to you yet.”

“Oh?”  He laid the tunic carefully on the bed so as not to wrinkle it and began to take his boots off.  “What do you have to say to an intolerable ghost of a person such as myself?”

He couldn’t believe it, but Sorey actually stammered.  “I-I only wanted to ask if you needed anything more.”

“Hm.”  Mikleo smiled and started using his arts to fill the tub.  “You know that seraphim have very few earthly needs, correct?”

“But in this malevolence you must feel ill.”

“I’ll be fine.”  He poured the solution from one of the bottles into the bath.  The perfumed elixer frothed up creating a layer of foamy bubbles over the top. It smelled of lavender.  “Do you have wares like this hidden somewhere?  Are they all pirate plunder?”

“Villages around the borders keep leaving stuff out as offerings.”  He huffed as if the very thought was ridiculous.  “Food and drink, riches, and even idols sometimes.”

“Towns on the edge of your domain are suffering, you know.”  With his bath prepared, Mikleo stripped down to his leggings.  Sorey still stood with his back turned, as if the lord of calamity was flustered by a little skin.    


“I’m not going to lay down and die,” he said.  “They can figure out how to deal with it, or they can leave.”

Mikleo removed the rest of his clothes and slipped into the tub.   The water was cold, but that had never bothered him.    


Sorey finally looked over to him and found his body concealed by the bath.  He frowned.  “Stop soaking and clean yourself.  Make sure you get everywhere.”

“Do you want to help?”

“No, I--” he turned again, huffing.  “Forget it.”

Mikleo sank into the tub until only his head and the top of his knees poked out.  The malevolence did make him ill, but relaxing in the water of his own conjuring helped.  He wondered if Sorey knew it would have that effect. “I’d like some spices,” he said.  “But don’t kill anyone over it.”

Sorey nodded at his request and left without saying anything more.  

\- - -

The next day, Mikleo ventured out into the darkness to the kitchen once again, and found six little bottles sitting on the edge of the stove.  Fennel, mustard, clove, saffron, turmeric, and ginger.   


	4. A Gift

Mikleo prepared dinners for Sorey every night.  He thought, humans were supposed to have three meals a day, but if he could get Sorey to eat just one, then that would be an improvement over simply sustaining himself with the power of a malevolent heart.

“Are you getting tired of boar?”  It had been the main protein for going on two weeks now, although Mikleo had tried to at least vary the cuts.

“Not at all.”    


They sat together in the banquet hall, Sorey at its head and Mikleo to his side.  It was dark as ever, except for a few lanterns he’d cobbled together from rusted out containers that were no longer suitable for food.  The light was more reliable than a few weak candles, at least.    


By this light, Sorey looked like a normal young man with brown hair and green eyes.  Attractive, even.  But Mikleo could feel the malevolence emanating from him at all times.    


He knew that some of those bones he’d uncovered in the garden were not from boars or goats.

“It was always my favorite,” he said.

“Always?”

Sorey continued eating, no response.

Mikleo leaned in.  “You mean, when you were human, too?” 

Sorey glared up at him from across the table, setting his fork and knife down.  “Do you think you can save me with a few plates of meat?”

“No, I--”

“It’s damn well cooked, but don’t start deluding yourself.”  He stood, leaving his plate only half eaten, and made his exit.

Mikleo sank back into his chair.   
  


\- - -

“What are you doing  _ now _ ?”

It had been a few days since Mikleo had last seen Sorey.  He thought.  Hard to tell, with it being always night, but he had skipped a meal at least.    


Mikleo stood in the hallway he’d been clearing in between cooking and other chores for the last week or so, wearing his white shift--it was torn up anyway, fine to clean in--and a pair of threadbare slippers he’d found on the lower level.  He had a rag in one hand and a bucket in the other.

“Cleaning the windows, what does it look like?”

Sorey sighed.  “You’re the dumbest seraph I’ve ever met.”

Mikleo shrugged and went back to scrubbing.

“Ah, stop doing that!”  Sorey grabbed his arm.    


Mikleo rolled his eyes, ignoring the tight grip that was meant to intimidate him.  “Why do you care?”

“It’s dark out, so who cares about the damn windows?”

“Right, then you shouldn’t mind if I clean them.”

He turned and stretched his arms up to start at the highest point.  Part of the glass there was broken.  He wondered as he wiped carefully around the crack if there was any way to fix it with the tools he had on hand. 

“ _ Stop _ .” Sorey grabbed him, more than just intimidating this time.  He yanked hard and Mikleo found himself thrown up against the opposite wall with a thud.  Sorey had him again, and for the first time since that night, Mikleo could see the monster in him.    


This couldn’t be the same man, that darkly humorous fellow who teased him as he engaged in philosophical nonsense.    


“I said  _ stop _ ,” he growled, his palm planted against the wall next to Mikleo’s ear.

“Why?”

Sorey hissed a breath through his teeth, pressing his eyes shut.  “I don’t like looking out.  I don’t care what’s out there, and I don’t want to see it.”

Mikleo raised his hand and pressed it against Sorey’s cheek.  He was warm, burning in fact.  Malevolence rolled off him like a hot breath.  At the touch, his eyes opened with renewed clarity, and the heat subsided.  Mikleo smiled.

A streak of blood smeared Sorey’s cheek.  The broken glass left a hairline scratch on Mikleo’s palm when Sorey pulled him down.    


“I’m sorry,” he said, clutching Mikleo’s hand and pulling it away from his face.  He looked at the wound and shook his head in frustration, cursing under his breath at himself.  “Why won’t you get away from here?  I keep hurting you.”

“I’m not human, you won’t break me with a little roughhousing, and I can heal it easily.”  The wound closed with little more than a thought.    


“Still, I…”

Mikleo expected in moments like this, when Sorey was clear-headed and remorseful over his actions, that the malevolence would dissipate.  Though Sorey’s face had never seemed more human than in that moment, staring into his eyes with guilt and longing, the darkness inside him swelled up, threatening to consume Mikleo and everything around them.

“I forgive you,” he said, touching his hand to Sorey’s face again.  “You’ve done something wrong, but you can be forgiven, don’t you understand?”

Sorey winced and shook his head again.  His words couldn’t reach.

“Why are you wearing this ugly thing,” Sorey said, pulling at the hem of Mikleo’s shift.  Mikleo made no effort to move.  “This hideous white, why did you put it back on?”

“I didn’t want to dirty the fine silk you gave me as a gift.”

“That’s nonsense.”  He huffed a strained breath.  “I’ve got hundreds of silk garments, enough to wear a new one every day, and you can have them all.”

“Will you show me?”

Sorey pushed himself off the wall and away from Mikleo, brushing his hand aside.  He turned his back against him.  “I’ll bring you something later.”

Mikleo sighed.  No tour of Sorey’s secret cache tonight.

\- - -

When he retired to his room for the night, after cleaning, tending the garden, and prepping for tomorrow’s meal, he found the clothes Sorey had promised him resting on the end of his bed.

It was a silk gown in sapphire with a gold sash, even less suited for laboring work than the current one.  He groaned.    


After a bath and a long nap, he tried the clothes on and found them even more ridiculous in use.  The robe was light and billowy, with fabric sheer and gathered into silver rings crafted into leaf shapes on his shoulders, leaving his arms bare. It wafted like a sail behind him as he walked.    


And for new shoes, he’d been given sandals with leather straps in a warm brown with silver clasps.

He put the garb on and stormed out of his room to find Sorey.

It shouldn’t have been so easy to find a reclusive fallen shepherd whose only pastime seemed to be staying away from Mikleo, but there he was, draped over his throne, grinning to himself like a mad fool as Mikleo walked in.    


“How am I supposed to work in this?” Mikleo said, holding his arms out to present himself.

Sorey snickered.  “I just wanted to see you in it.  Still needs something, doesn’t it?  Maybe some jewels.”

Mikleo folded his arms across his chest and turned his nose up.  “So this is some kind of joke, is it?”

He stopped smiling and straightened up in his throne, uncrossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees, like a benevolent ruler addressing his subjects.  “I wanted to see if you’d put it on just to please your master.”

Mikleo balked, lifting his chin even higher.    


“You make that salty face now, but you did it, didn’t you?”

“So I failed your stupid test?”  He huffed a breath and narrowed his eyes at Sorey.  “If you’re that bored, read a book or something.”

Sorey waved his hand dismissively and sunk into the chair again, throwing one leg over the other.  “I’ve got hundreds of books, read them all cover to cover a dozen times each already.”

“Well I’m not to blame for--”  Mikleo stopped mid-comeback.  His eyes opened wide and sparkled at the thought.  “Did you just say you have  _ hundreds _ of books?”

“What, you like books or something?”

That much should have been obvious from the intense gleam in his eyes

\- - -

“Here,” Sorey said as he threw open the doors to a private library in the back of the manor’s first floor.  He sighed and waved his arm around half-heartedly. “You can have these if you want, I don’t need them anymore.”

The smell of old books overtook him.  Mikleo, still wearing his thin turquoise gown, walked into the library.  There were shelves full of books there, hundreds of them just as Sorey had said.  There was also  a hand-carved table for studying in front of another soot-stained window that might once have offered a beautiful view of the garden.

He began scanning the walls.  “They’re mostly about history and archeology.”

“Some random ones too.”  Sorey shrugged.  “Well, I hope this keeps you busy.”

Mikleo almost didn’t hear him, already making selections to take back to his room.  He looked up as Sorey passed back out through the door.  “Wait, what about my clothes?”

“Eh, I’ll bring you more suitable ones.”  He chuckled as he walked down the hall.  “If I feel like it.”


	5. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into the domain to ward off human intruders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Didn't originally intend for this fic to get so violent/gorey but there is some in this chapter. I updated the warning tags and first chapter notes to reflect this as well.

Mikleo stood in the kitchen cleaning the plates from tonight’s meal.  In the back of his mind, he kept track of the days.  Fifty-seven, now.  Sorey had eaten a meal with him most of those nights, with only a few absences.  He missed dinner if Mikleo started asking too many questions, or if he was just in a foul mood.   


“Mikleo.”

He turned to see Sorey standing in the doorway, leaning his weight into one arm against the door’s frame.  The image of him in his regal black and gold was incongruous with the worn out kitchen and the overgrown weeds sticking out from between the broken cobblestones behind him.   


“I don’t believe I’ve heard you say my name since that first time.”  He put away the plates and turned to face him.  “You must need something.”

Sorey pushed himself off the door frame and shifted his weight onto his other foot with a hand on his hip.  “Got me there.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just come with me, we’ll be gone a while.”

Mikleo finished putting away the clean pots and pans, then joined Sorey near the door.  “Lead the way.”

\-- -

He found himself being led through the forest outside the manor grounds.  The canopy of the trees was too dense for light from the moon or stars to get through, and Mikleo could scarcely see a thing except for the pattern on the back of the fallen shepherd’s cloak.  He’d seen those shapes before in murals, but had never imagined them in such stark black and gold.   


“I suppose we’re not out on a leisurely stroll through the domain.”

Sorey chuckled bitterly, still walking without turning to acknowledge him.  “It occurred to me that I have use for your invisibility.”

That made Mikleo stiffen up a bit as he followed.  “You want me to do something to humans?”

“Nothing that would appall your pure sensibilities.”  He pushed a branch out of the way and held it so that Mikleo could pass underneath without being snagged.  “I just want you to go up to them, shake some branches, maybe chuck some ice at them.”

“You want me to scare them away.”  Mikleo sighed.  “Why do you need me for this?”

Sorey kept walking ahead of him, going out of his way to stand at angles which kept Mikleo from seeing his face.  “What tends to happen, usually,” Sorey began to say, slowly and without the usual humor to it, “is those pesky humans come to barter for their lands, and when they see that my physical form is not that of a beast, when they see that I look like nothing more than a boy, then they get arrogant and think they can slay this lord of calamity after all.”

“So they’d get cocky and start at you, and then you’d…”  Well, that was one explanation for those suspicious bones he’d found on the grounds.   


Sorey fell silent.  Mikleo required nothing further.  He’d help him avoid a direct confrontation with the humans, and that would avoid more bloodshed and the resulting malevolence.

Instead, Mikleo opted for a change of subject.  “You’ve been controlling your hunger quite admirably around me.”

“Well, you keep me well fed.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Sorey’s steps slowed for just a moment, then he resumed his pace.  “It’s difficult.”

That was the most confirmation Mikleo had ever gotten of how much Sorey was struggling to hold back.  To know it was done for his sake, in order to keep him around, he smiled to himself.

Sorey stopped and raised his hand.  “There,” he whispered.  A few seconds later, Mikleo could make out the flickering of torches passing behind the trees nearby.   


Mikleo nodded in affirmation.   


He glided past Sorey and made his way towards the lights.  There were two adults there, a man and a woman, both dressed in humble robes along with a girl who looked to be seven or eight years old. She was wearing white.   


At first he wondered if they were perhaps lost, and then saw that the girl’s hands were bound in front of her with rope.  Her eyes were teary, but she marched onward with a brave face.

This was not the kind of offering Sorey had described.   


“Turn back!  Go away!”  He waved his hands frantically, hoping one of them might have resonance after all, and that they could have a nice discussion about this.  The little girl raised her head in his direction at the noise, but the man and the woman could not perceive him in the slightest.

He summoned his artes, bidding drops of water to appear and whirl about, whipping at the trees in a cyclone all around them.  It created such a sound that any human should be afraid and run.   


The two adults braced themselves, guarding their eyes from the storm he’d conjured.  The girl winced, unable to raise her arms.  “The beast is here,” the man shouted over the noise.  “Quickly, we have to do it!”

The woman pulled a dagger from her cloak and held it up above her head, poised to strike the child.  “Don’t look poor child, it will be over soon,” she said.  Then louder, she began to chant.  “Oh Lord of these woods, please accept our offering of purest blood and spare our town from your shadow!”

“Stop!” Mikleo shouted, and cast ice shards at the woman as the knife came down.  He tried to form them bluntly, but they gashed deep wounds onto her hands and arms as they knocked the knife away.

The man dove for it.  “Quickly, before he consumes us all!”   


Mikleo made to throw ice at him as well, but the man had the girl in his arms with the knife to her neck before he could finish the casting.  He couldn’t target him without also hitting the girl, and she was so small that one icicle cast at her could likely kill her.  Mikleo’s control was good, but it was not that good.   


As his mind raced for some other way to save her, his body sprang up on its own, the natural response being to run and tackle this misguided human before he could harm an innocent child.  But he wouldn’t make it in time.

Everything he could see exploded in a swath of red.  The woman screamed as blood sprayed over her, a fountain of it.   


Mikleo froze stiff in position, far to slow to have been of any help.  But once his vision focused on the shapes freakishly illuminated by the dropped lantern lying on its side nearby, he realized that it wasn’t the girl who had been butchered.

Sorey stood over the form of the frightened girl, his arm protruding from the man’s chest, his limp body hanging from it.  In one sharp motion he withdrew his arm, letting the corpse fall against the ground with a thunk.   


He glared at the woman who stood there trembling, unable to breathe.  She saw the murderous glint in his eyes and turned to run.   


Sorey let her go, leaving them with the corpse and the terrified child.   


Mikleo grabbed the knife that had dropped once again to the ground and cut the girl free of her bonds.  He held her face between his palms and held her steady to into his eyes.  She was a frail little thing with brown hair and freckles. He hoped that through this contact, she could at least hear his voice, even if she could not see.  “Go north towards the tallest mountain you can see,” he said. “Don’t stop until you see a stone arch.  The people there will protect you.  Tell them Seraph Mikleo sent you there, and they'll take care of you.”

“Y-yes,” the girl whimpered.  He put the lantern into her hand.   


“Go, now!” He dropped his hands away from her and she ran off.  He had no time to worry if such a small girl could make it to Elysia with only a lantern in her possession.  There was Sorey to worry about now.

Sorey stood over his kill, rigid, staring down at the mangled corpse, his arm coated in the thick red of the man’s blood.   


Mikleo called out _"Sorey!_ The fallen shepherd did not even look up at the sound of his much-detested human name.  His eyes were wild.  They glinted in the dark bright green, possessed of some supernatural energy.

Sorey brought his bloody hand to his lips and licked the blood, sucking it from his fingers, and growling.

“You don’t need to eat him, Sorey,” Mikleo said, keeping his voice low, taking step by gingerly step towards him.  Sorey didn’t look up.

He knelt beside the fresh corpse and inhaled deeply through his nose.  “I…”  He struggled to form words.  “He’s dead,” he droned, entranced.  He lifted the man’s arm and ripped away the sleeve.  “He’s dead and I need…”

“No, you don’t!”  Mikleo lunged at Sorey, throwing his arms around his neck, pushing him back from his kill. He choked words into Sorey’s blood-soaked collar. “You don’t need to eat him!,  don’t taint yourself with his flesh!  A human so corrupted as to murder a child to save himself, it’ll only transform you into something hellish.

A deep, guttural growl came from deep within Sorey’s chest.  He lifted and threw Mikleo to the ground, pushing his weight down on top of him, crushing the breath out of him.  He bared his teeth.  Saliva dripped from his mouth into Mikleo’s face.

“Sorey,” Mikleo pleaded.  “Sorey, please…”

Sorey bit down hard onto Mikleo’s neck.  He screamed as teeth tore through his flesh, but squeezed his arms around Sorey tighter.  “If you need it, take it from me,” he said, sobbing through the pain.  “I’ll give it to you freely, Sorey.”  He could feel blood trickling down his neck now.   He threaded his fingers through Sorey’s hair.  “If it would save you, I’d give you everything.”

He felt the bite of the teeth on his neck slack, and then the weight lifted off him.  Sorey looked down at him with his eyes now focused.  “Mikleo,” he whispered.  Then he scooped Mikleo up into his arms again, tenderly this time.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Mikleo held him and rocked him gently. He was shaking.  “You came back, you’re okay now.”

Sorey looked over his shoulder at what he’d done.  “I…  that man…”  He pushed Mikleo away and covered his face with his hands.  “I killed him.  I didn’t have to.”

Mikleo clutched his wound.  “You saved that girl’s life.”

“But I didn’t even see the girl,” Sorey said, on his hands and knees in the dirt.  His tears left clean trails in the blood and grit as they slid down his face.  “That man’s heart swelled up with malevolence and everything else went black.  I needed to tear it out of his chest, I needed to take it into myself, to consume it.”

Mikleo stood and offered Sorey his hand.  “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.  “Away from the scent of this corpse and back home.”

Sorey leaned on Mikleo for support and stood.  They walked a few paces away from the scene of the carnage.

“I shouldn’t exist,” Sorey choked, whimpering to himself.  “I should have never existed.”

“Don’t say something like that.”  Mikleo pushed him harder, trying to walk faster.  “You didn’t ask for this.”

Sorey ignored him and looked at his blood-soaked hand.  Then up at his face again, at the wound on his neck.  “You’re bleeding.”

The wound where Sorey had bitten him was still gushing.  Mikleo stopped for a moment to heal it with his artes.  In the glow of the light his magic produced, he could see how his new clothes, the ones Sorey had brought him when he was done teasing, were stained with blood.  “Don’t worry about me.”


	6. Forgiveness

Sorey woke to the smell of Mikleo’s cooking.

He was still on the throne where Mikleo set him down what must have been a few nights ago, and his neck hurt from sleeping in the angle he’d nodded off in. When he rubbed his eyes they were puffy and crusted.   


Mikleo wore the old beaten up silk tunic from before.  The current one, which had been more to his taste, was likely stained with blood and gore.  He held a bowl and spoon out to him.  Sorey looked down into the bowl at its contents.  Some sort of broth with white meat in it.

“You’re acting like I have the sniffles.”

“Isn’t it a human tradition?”  Mikleo smirked.  “When you’re feeling bad you get soup.  It’s not chicken, but I caught some pheasant.”  He stirred the bowl.  “It’s easier to find foul here actually, they wander in more often and they don’t hellionize as quickly.  So uh, I hope you like it.”   


“Mikleo…”  Sorey liked the way his name sounded, even as he spoke down to him.  “This isn’t a cold.  I killed a man.  You aren’t going to fix me with a bowl of soup.”

“Does that mean you don’t want it?”

Sorey sighed.  “Now, I didn’t say  _ that _ .”  He took the bowl and began to eat.  Delicious as always, from Mikleo.   “How did you learn such a tradition?”

Mikleo smiled.  He seemed pleased that Sorey was talking to him.  If it avoided the obvious conversation about  _ what the fuck happened back there _ , then he’d oblige.  “There are humans who live in the seraphim village of Elysia,” Mikleo said.  “They can see us, and we shared meals with them.”

He spooned more of the soup into his mouth, resisting the urge to suck it all down from the bowl.  “Do you miss it there?”

“I miss some things.”  The way he held one arm with the other and looked over his shoulder told Sorey it was more than just some.  “I miss the sky there.”

“Always blue,” Sorey said in a sigh.  “You ever lie in the fields on your back and look at the shapes of clouds for hours?”

As expected, Mikleo’s eyes opened wide.  “You know Elysia?” he asked him, hardly able to push air through his lungs.  “You’ve been there?”

Sorey couldn’t help but laugh.  A deep, bitter, chuckle.  “You wanted to know where I came from.  Well…”

“You  _ lived _ in Elysia?  But--”  He clenched his fist and anger overcame his expression.  Sorey raised an eyebrow at that.  “Lailah never told me about you at all, nobody did.”

It figured.  “Oh, Lailah, Lailah, Lailah…”

“You knew her?”

Sorey finished his soup and stood up from the throne without answering.  As he did, his legs wobbled and his head felt fuzzy.   


“You’re not recovered yet,” Mikleo said, putting an arm on his to steady him.  “Sorey, would you--”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned.  “You know I hate it.”

“Oh, okay, I won’t.”  Mikleo shook his head and let it drop surprisingly without retort.  “Would you show me where you sleep?”

“Huh?”  Sorey was sure he was hallucinating at this point.  “You want to come to bed with me?”

“N-no!” Mikleo stammered and turned beet red.  He whipped his hands away from Sorey’s arm and held them down at his sides, fists balled.  “You’re still weak and you need to rest, but I want to make sure you’re going to be all right, that’s all!”

“Hmf.”  Sorey turned.  He wasn’t in a state to argue.  “You’ll just break down the doors if I don’t, won’t you?”

“I would.” 

“Come on, then.”

Mikleo took his arm back.  “Don’t walk too fast, you could fall over.”

  * \- -



Sorey’s room was about as Mikleo expected.  Dark, windows blotted out, ripped walls.  He lit a candle as Sorey threw himself onto the master’s bed, which to his credit did not look two hundred years out of service.  It was definitely in need of new stuffing and bedding, though.  Mikleo’s was nicer.   


“Well, are you going to stand there and watch me sleep?”

Mikleo smiled.  “Yes.”

Sorey released an agonized groan.   


Mikleo ignored his petulance and continued scanning the room.  On the nightstand, he spotted a book he had not seen in the library.  “That’s--”

“Huh?”  Sorey raised his head to see what Mikleo was losing his mind about.  “Hey, don’t...”

“This is the celestial record!”  Mikleo lifted and turned the book over in his hands.  “Wow, and it’s an old one.”

“You know it?”

Mikleo nodded energetically and flipped to the page about the water wheel in Ladylake.  He showed it to Sorey and pointed.  “I got to see this one time, it was amazing.”

“So you like that sort of thing?”  Sorey smiled, and for the first time it was fond and warm.

Mikleo closed the book, coming back to himself.  He sat on the bed next to Sorey and held it in his lap.  “Sor--” he started to say the name, and stopped himself.  “I mean, my lord…”

Sorey groaned and threw his arm across his face.  “Don’t start up with  _ that _ again!”

“What else am I supposed to call you?”  He huffed, and then let himself simmer again.  “What happened out there in the woods?”

Sorey let out a huge breath and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  “That’s what happens when people with malevolence in their hearts cross me.”

Mikleo nodded, following.  “And how often does that happen?”

“I try to stay away from people, but sometimes I need things.  I get bored.”

“You get bored, so you hunt and kill pirates?”

“No, it’s more like I get bored, so I steal books from pirates, the pirates try to kill me, and I end up eating them because pirates aren’t usually good people.”

Mikleo covered his mouth, trying not to laugh at something so grim.  “You made it sound to me like you go out and kill people for fun.”

Sorey turned his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  I have killed twenty-three people.  Twelve of those, I consumed their flesh.”

“And when you do, you grow more powerful.”

“Hm.”  Sorey wasn’t looking at him.  “Doesn’t feel that way.  Every time, I become more helpless to resist it.   _ It’s _ getting more powerful, not me.”

“The malevolence inside you grows,” Mikleo said, clutching the book.  “And when you drank my blood instead, it had a different effect.”

“Yeah.”  Sorey covered his face.  His voice began to waver.  “Seraph’s blood is like a drug, I need it and I crave it, and it puts me on my ass every time I have it.”

Mikleo considered that.  He was hesitant to ask, but he needed to know.  “Have you killed seraphim before?”

“I haven’t managed that yet, but I’ve bitten a few.”

Without thinking, Mikleo’s hand went up to his neck where the bite mark was still angry red.

“If Lailah had come here instead of me, would you have…”

Sorey sat up in bed.  “Lailah has that same scar,” he said, pulling at the neckline of Mikleo’s tunic.  The wound was easy enough to close with healing artes, but the shape of teeth was still clearly embedded in his skin.   “You know I saw you fighting, right?  You’re pretty good with ice.”

“Yeah?”

He brushed his thumb over the wound.  “So why did you let me take a bite out of you like an animal?”

Mikleo did not pull away from his touch. “Better my flesh and blood than the tainted stuff.”

“If I didn’t stop then, would you have let me kill you?”

“No.”  Mikleo opened the book and began to flip through it, handling the pages delicately.  “If it would save you, I would.  But it wouldn’t.  So, I just let you have a nibble.”

“A  _ nibble _ ?”  Sorey clapped his hand down on the book’s cover and closed it in Mikleo’s lap.  “That isn’t funny.”

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand.”  He lifted Sorey’s hand off the book and out of his lap, returning his intense glare with cool focus.  “How did this happen?  What did you do to deserve all this?”

Sorey’s hand wormed back into Mikleo’s lap and took the book away.  Sitting next to him, he turned through it, running his fingers fondly over the illustrated pages.  “When I was young, I wanted to explore the world and see everything in this book,” he said.  “I became the shepherd instead.  I saw many of these places, but not in the way that I’d wanted to.”

“And what happened to make you this way?”

Sorey stopped on a page illustrating an ancient throne.  “At the end of my journey, I killed a man.  The previous lord of malevolence.  My prime lord, Lailah, and everyone else around me too, told me that it was the right thing to do.  That it would end so much suffering across the world, including his own.  That he was a sad man who hurt others to fill a void in his heart.  But I…”

“So Lailah was your prime lord.”

“Mikleo,” he looked up at him.  “If the circumstances had been different and I hadn’t killed that man.  Would you have killed him?  Or would you have let him kill that girl?”

“I don’t know.  My mind was racing so fast, and I couldn’t find an answer.”

“An answer?”  He scoffed at that.  “It doesn’t matter what your answer is.  The man kills the girl, he becomes a hellion and the girl’s spirit festers in the earth.  Or you kill the man, his family grieves, maybe one of them becomes a hellion instead.  It doesn’t matter what you do.  It’s all for naught.”

“If I could have just--”

“But you couldn’t.”

“Maybe the bereft could be forgiving, maybe people could--”

“But they won’t.”

Mikleo felt heat rising to his face and tried not to give Sorey the satisfaction of seeing his frustration.  He took the book back and Sorey didn’t fight him.  “You lie back,” Mikleo said. “You need to rest.”

“Fine, I won’t argue with my vassal.”  He kicked his shoes off and leaned back into the worn mattress.

Mikleo ignored the tease and opened the book to the first entry.  “The Hyland goat.  The milk of this breed produces a highly valuable commodity.”

“What are you doing?”

“Be quiet, I’m reading to you.”  He cleared his throat.  “However, its meat makes for an unpleasant meal.”

“You’re the stupidest seraph,” Sorey interrupted himself to yawn.  “I’ve ever met.”

Mikleo continued to read, and his voice lulled Sorey to sleep.     


  * \- -  




Sorey woke again, this time because he felt a tickle on his cheek.  He opened his eyes slowly to find the seraph lying next to him, using the same pillow to rest his head.  His silvery hair and complexion took on an amber hue in the warm candle light.   


“Hey,” he whispered.  “Stupid seraph.”

Mikleo didn’t stir at the sound. The source of the tickling sensation was the cool breath from his lips, just barely parted and blossoming pink against his pale skin.   


He found himself reaching to touch that delicate face, but  came to his senses and pulled back.

“Mikleo.”

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of his proper name.  He yawned, like a kitten displaying its fangs, and grumbled as he nestled back into the pillow.

Sorey sighed.  “So what exactly do you think you’re doing right now?” 

Mikleo yawned again and rubbed his eyes.  “I got sleepy because of the malevolence.”

“And, instead of getting as far away from that malevolence as possible, you curled up in bed with the very source of it.”

“I know, uhg, and your bed isn’t even  _ nice _ .”

Sorey rolled over to face the wall.  “Get out of my bed, you poltergeist.” 

He waited to hear Mikleo’s feet on the floor as he headed back to his room, but the depression in the bed next to him wasn’t vacated.  Instead, he felt Mikleo roll closer to him and curl against his back, breath on the back of his neck.   


“It doesn’t hurt,” he said.  “Your malevolence still makes me a little dizzy, but it doesn’t hurt me.”

“ _ I _ hurt you.  I tore flesh from your bones with my teeth and swallowed it.”

“Hm.”  Mikleo nuzzled into him.  “If I hurt you back, will it make you feel better?”

Sorey groaned and buried his face in the pillow.  “It might.”

He felt the puff of air when Mikleo snorted.  “Shall I rip your arm off? Or whip you?  Or make you walk on coals?”

“Whichever amuses you the most.”

Mikleo pulled at his shoulder and turned him to lie on his back.  He held himself on his arms over him.  “I’d have killed him,” he said, looking down with those haunting violet eyes.   


“You think so, huh?”   


“I’d rather have killed that man that watch the girl die,” Mikleo said.  “That’s my decision.”

Sorey’s eyes glazed over as memories of his days as a shepherd bubbled to the surface.  “The girl was already forsaken by the town, and had given up her life.  Even her parents would have come to terms with the offering.  But the man, he had a family and people to provide for.  By choosing the man, you’ve spread malevolence father than just the girl.”

“So perhaps I have,” Mikleo said.  “I don’t care, I want to save the girl.”

“I figured.”  He lifted his hand to comb through Mikleo’s hair.  Mikleo smiled at the touch and leaned into his palm.   


“Can you forgive me for wanting to kill that man, despite my awareness of how much trouble it would cause?”

“It’s not the same as it is for me, Mikleo.”

“Why is it not, Sorey?”

“Don’t…”  Sorey began to protest, but gave up with a sigh.  “Nevermind.  Do whatever you like, I guess.”

“Hm, I will.”    


Mikleo lowered his weight onto Sorey, eclipsing his vision with all of him, and pressed his lips against him.  At the touch of those lips, he felt he was in Elysia again, drinking from the cool mountain stream.   


He sat up, first pushing harder into Mikleo’s kiss, then pulling him away with hands placed on both his shoulders.  “Don’t do that,” he said.  “I’ll want more.”

Mikleo gave a tender peck to his forehead.  “Okay, then I won’t.”

He turned over and got out of the bed.  Sorey watched him, lifting himself up and walking away in that graceful manner.  He stopped at the door.  
“I forgive you,” he said.  “When you are able to forgive yourself, I’ll be waiting.” 


	7. Flaming Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write, I rewrote it twice. At this point I'm just hoping it doesn't have inconsistencies within itself or with previous chapters. However if it does, I'll probably just retcon edit some stuff once the fic is complete. Anyway, get ready for some Lailah angst.

The village of Elysia remained tucked into the mountains where it enjoyed cool weather and blue skies for most of the year.  People had come here, human people, as part of a plan devised by Lailah and Zenrus in secret, to increase the odds that a new shepherd might be found.  Humans with enough resonance to perceive the seraphim would be invited here, along with their families, to live in peaceful Elysia.  Seeing as how the human cities were choking with malevolence, those sensitive to it usually accepted the offer to move.

Some of them could only hear her, and others could see--but only sometimes, or barely at all.  Their senses improved over time, but there had been none promising enough to wear the mantle of a shepherd.    


Lailah hoped that the newest additions to their flock, little human children that scampered around her skirt tails, would have more luck.  She wondered though, if the humans were too eager to trust her.

The rosy-cheeked girl of three years grabbed the ends of her skirt and grinned, revealing the hole where a baby tooth had fallen out.  She remembered Mikleo being that small.  He didn’t lose his teeth.  They didn’t know why, or if it was just something seraphim didn’t need to do.  Seraph children were as rare as shepherds, it seemed.  Mikleo was as precious to them as the moon and stars.    


But they sacrificed their only youth just as he had reached the barest beginnings of adulthood, thousands of years ahead of him to grow and learn.  Lailah still could not believe they had allowed that ancient ritual to pass.  And for all their heartache, it hadn't worked.  Sorey's domain was expanding at the same rate as ever.  


“You children shouldn’t wander past the town gate,” she scolded, although they were quite safe as long as she was there.  “There are mean prickleboars out here!”

“Lady Lailah?”  She heard her name and lifted her head to find seraphs Kaim and Natalie approaching her from the forested side of the field.  In Natlie’s arms was a small girl, not one of theirs.

“Zenrus sensed her around the border of his domain, and sent us to investigate,” Kaim said.    


“I’m glad he didn’t try to zap her,” Natalie laughed nervously.  “Poor thing is hungry and terrified.  Rambling about a monster and angel.”

“Goodness, she must have some resonance,” Lailah thought aloud.  “Take her to Miss Sarah’s house, she’s good with children.”

\- - -

The human woman Sarah had no children of her own, but could both see and hear seraphim and was blessed with a knack for childcare.  Teaching children about the seraphim could be difficult, when not all of the children could see or hear them, and she had taken on that task. She also gave them as good an education as she was able to, making sure the children could all read and write, and do math.

In her little house nestled into the rocks were shelves of books, including several picture books and also toys that the seraphim brought back from their travels to please the children.  These were still strewn about the floor from playtime earlier in the day, as Sarah had been busy trying to comfort the poor girl.

Lailah visited to find the girl drawing with crude wax crayons on a scrap of paper.  She made big angry strokes with the red crayon.

“I put together a few things,” Sarah said softly to Lailah as they watched her.  “The poor girl has been traumatized badly, that’s for sure.  She came from a town bordering the Lord of Calamity’s domain.”

A domain that should have shrunk considerably if Sorey had eaten Mikleo’s flesh and gone into a century-long slumber as intended.  Lailah shuddered both at the thought of what could have happened, and what might happen now that it had not.    


“The people of this town got it into their heads that if they sent a _ human  _ sacrifice, it would help.  But that’s not right at all, is it?”

“No,”Lailah said in a low tone, almost a murmur.  “Human consumption only makes him stronger and more volatile.  Only a seraph’s flesh can subdue him.”  

“Of course, that’s why Mikleo…”  She cleared her throat.  Everyone of an adult age in Elysia knew why he’d gone, knew why he had to go--but no one felt comfortable discussing it, whether they agreed with it or not.  Especially not with Lailah.  “Well, someone ought to put a stop to them before they make things worse.”

I will ask Kaim to take a group and try to resolve the situation,” Lailah said.  “Natalie told me she saw a monster, was it a hellion?”

“I can’t say.  She saw something bloody, that’s what’s clear.  She says an angel saved her and told her to come here, but she can’t remember his name.”

“His name?”

“A seraph, if I had to guess.  She said she couldn’t see him, but that he saved her from the bad monster.”

Lailah knelt next to the little girl and took her hand carefully, trying not to startle her.  The girl looked up at Sarah worriedly.

“It’s okay,” Sarah said.  “It’s just another angel, she’s here to protect you.”

“Hi,” said the girl.

“Hello,” Lailah answered.  “Can you see me?”

The girl shook her head.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  You must be afraid, then.”

“I’m not afraid anymore,” the girl answered, but her voice wavered with the words. “Miss Sarah told me you are seraphim like momma told me about.  They took me away from momma.  Momma cried a lot.”

“Oh my, how sad.”  Lailah was trying to play like she was strong and comforting to the girl, but she had to choke back some of her own emotions.  “Why did they do that?”

“Because the bad monster will leave everybody alone if I go,” she said.  “But I was too scared and I ran away.”

“Oh no, dear.”  Lailah shifted her weight to rest on her knees and pet the girls hair, letting her lean into the touch.  “They shouldn’t have made you do that.  It isn’t your fault.”

 

The little girl sniffled and threw herself to embrace her invisible angel.  “Can I go back to my momma now?”

“Tell you what,” Lailah said.  She stroked the girl’s hair.  “You stay here where it’s safe, and we’ll ask your mother to come to see you.”  She was careful not to make too specific a promise.  The mother might have cried, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a monster, completely capable of sacrificing her own child.

Lailah had cried so many tears, after all.    


\- - -

Mikleo was standing at the window looking out into the dark sky when he heard a knock at the door of his room.  Sorey wasn’t the type to knock.

This was the first Mikleo had heard of him in four days.  His meals had been left untouched.  Mikleo was beginning to wonder if his declaration had been too bold.  Maybe he shouldn’t have shared Sorey’s bed without asking him, or kissed him while they were both still in it.  Those were both things that had felt so right at the time, and yet had tortured him with anxious thoughts ever since.

“Come in.”

The door was still set poorly from the bathtub incident, and creaked as Sorey entered.  His eyes were dark and puffy.  Mikleo turned away from the window to face him and started at the sight.  Sorey hadn’t looked so severe since their first few days together.  His hair ruffled, his clothes untucked and dirty.

“What’s the matter?”

“You said you could make a decision like that and live with it,” Sorey answered in a gravely voice.  Mikleo worried that he hadn’t given himself anything to drink since he walled himself in his room. “I hate to test your resolve, but if I go, I know I will hurt someone.”

Mikleo clicked his tongue against his teeth in dismay.  “No, of course I won’t let you go out there again.”  He took a few steps closer to Sorey and placed his hands against the crimson fabric of his shirt.  There was no black cloak swishing behind him today.   “I’ll take care of it this time.  Who is it, more humans with ridiculous ideas?”

Sorey shook his head.  “It’s Lailah.”    


Mikleo swallowed hard at the name.  “How…?”

“She and I are still connected, although weakly.  I can sense her coming near.”

Mikleo had last seen Lailah crying and begging him not to go.  He thought she’d have to be drugged herself before she ever let go of him.  “She still holds the prime lord’s pact after all this time?  How is that possible?”

Sorey shrugged.  “As malevolent as I am, the rules become bent and inverted.  I can’t command her powers of purification, and she can’t use me as a vessel--not that she’d want to do that, it would corrupt her.  Despite that, she still holds some sort of vow to bond herself to me.  Maybe it gives her a tactical advantage, I don’t know.”

Mikleo moved his hand down Sorey’s arms from shoulder wrist.  The cloth needed washing badly.  It smelled strongly of his sweat.  “Or maybe she just wants to feel close to you.”

Sorey scowled.  “Over-empathizing isn’t a solid first step if you intend to fight her, you know.”

“Fight her?”  Mikleo was accomplished for his age, but he didn’t think he could fight Lailah.  Her purifying flame shouldn’t hurt him if he was not corrupted, it only burnt up hellions and the like.  But she was still about a millennia ahead of him in experience.

“You don’t have to.”  Sorey brushed his hand across Mikleo’s cheek and through his hair.  Mikleo hadn’t realized he’d pressed his eyes shut in frustration, and opened them to find Sorey studying his face with calm tenderness.  “If she asks you to go home, you should go.”      


Mikleo shook his head and buried his face into Sorey’s shoulder.  “I won’t leave. This is my home now.”

“But the very aura of this place makes you ill.”  Sorey continued petting his hair, and Mikleo felt his anxieties from before washing away under his touch. 

“Not anymore, I feel fine.”    


“Then that’s worse, that means you’re absorbing it.”

“Stop talking about it.”

Sorey groaned and pulled him away by the shoulders, looking into his eyes again.  “What are you going to do when you go out there?”

“Something.”

\- - -

The air in the garden behind the broken gates seemed more charged with malevolence than usual, or perhaps Mikleo was imagining that in anticipation of what was to come.  The dense growths of red and violet things curled up upon themselves, baring their thorns as the intruder approached.

A brisk wind swept through as she appeared, lily white against all this darkness.  Mikleo supposed he had looked that way too, at least at first.

“Mikleo, you’re…”  She began, bringing her hands up to clasp over her chest.  “I wished it wasn’t true.”

Mikleo stood firm.  “I won’t go back to Elysia,” he said.  “I’m staying here.”

“Oh, Mikleo.”  She looked at him, and her expression was so pained and pitiful.  “You  _ can’t _ come back anymore.”    


That struck Mikleo deep and he had to reorganize his thoughts to respond to it.  “You mean I’m not welcome anymore?  Because I didn’t accomplish my task, is that it?”

“No, not at all! We would have welcomed you with our arms open had you chosen to turn back.  None of us were happy that you were picked.  You’re our precious Mikleo.”  She looked down, cutting herself off from going on about how dear he was to her, and the others.  Perhaps to spare herself the agony of whatever she intended to do.

“Why not then?”

She bit her lip.  “Because you’re already tainted, Mikleo.”

“That’s ridiculous.  I feel fine.  Sorey’s malevolence is different, it isn’t what I was told--I was told malevolence was made by evil humans, and Sorey is not--”

“I’m sorry I never told you the truth.  My oath forbids me.  The oath I keep, so that one day Sorey may be put to rest by a new shepherd.  But that hate that festers in Sorey’s heart infects everything, even those who love him.”

“I’m not corrupted, not yet!”    


“Look how you stand here in the heart of his domain, you aren’t sick at all.” 

“Because Sorey--”    


“He’s a  _ monster _ , Mikleo.”    


Mikleo clenched his fist and grit his teeth.  He writhed like the thorny vines in anger at those words.  When he spoke again he spat.  “He’s only what  _ you _ made him.”    


Lailah stood quietly accepting the blow of that statement, not denying it or excusing it.  “I know what I’ve done,” she said finally, as if that was meant to absolve her.  “A monster is not always an evil villain, Mikleo.  Sorey hates himself, he hates the world that made him what he is.  If left unchecked, he will lead this world to destruction.”

“But there’s love and kindness, too.  He can’t be beyond saving if there’s still something left of his heart.”

“I used to believe the same.”  She held her hand up, palm towards him, and the red light of her flame sparked in front of it. Mikleo knew their conversation must be coming to an end.  “But even my love could not save him”

“You came here with the intent to fight, and yet you’re alone.”  He was buying time pointing this out, he wasn’t sure what for.  He just needed to  _ think _ .     


“Everyone else has endured the pain of sacrificing you once,” she said.  “If you won’t leave this place before Sorey’s malevolence turns you into a harbinger of destruction, then…” She took a deep breath, collecting herself.  “I’m afraid it is my burden to deal with you.”

“To kill me?”    


She waved her hands, fanning a row of glowing white cards in the air charged with her fire artes.  “Please don’t push me to that, Mikleo!”

He hadn’t been expecting the intense heat.  They’d sparred before, and during those times he’d discovered that though her flames wouldn’t burn anyone with a pure heart, they had a great deal of blunt force to them, and the environment in which they fought was still quite flammable, itself.  The heat stole the very air from his lungs.    


Worse than the incredible odds were the thoughts racing through his head.  It felt so hot against his skin like never before, was he really tainted?  Was Lailah really going to kill kim?  If he was tainted and could not be purified, then what else could she do?  He wondered if she’d chain him up and lock him away in some remote part of the world until she finally found her shepherd to purify him, if that day ever came.

And what would become of Sorey if he died or if he was taken away?  He’d get worse.  Some other seraph would have to die to quell him.  With their blood on his hands, he might never come back.      


No.  No, if he had to fight through the hellfire of Lailah’s righteous judgement, he’d do it.  He would fight for Sorey and what was left of his heart.

The second volley came fast and Mikleo had to think of a counter-attack.  He waved his arm to conjure bubbles of water that would pop and extinguish the incoming flames on impact, which would give him the precious few seconds he needed to cast an arte.    


Lailah saw the ring of blue light appear below her feet where ice would soon shoot up and took a step back.  Mikleo had to take this split second to do the only thing she would never expect, and in order to do it he had to have the killer intent needed to see it through.  For Sorey.

He pushed through the blazing flames and reached under his tunic for the cool handle tucked into his belt.  He drew out the sacrificial dagger he’d found discarded while burying that man, and raised it to strike Lailah.

Lailah flinched, not at the dagger, but at the look at his eyes and the sound of his voice as he screamed his attack.  Her hand swiped the air in front of him, and he as too late--her attack connected to him across the chest, a blade wrought of flame that tore his clothing and his skin.    


He cried out again as the searing agony wracked his body.  His feet remained grounded as he bit through the pain and smell of burning flesh.  It wasn’t the time to assess the damage.

Lailah was horrified.  “My flame burned you,” she whimpered.  “My purifying flame only burns hellions.”

Mikleo clutched the wound and hissed a curse through his teeth. “You already knew it, why are you surprised?”    


It was futile, and didn’t know why if he was beaten so badly his heart ached to continue the fight.  Something in him needed her to hurt as badly as she’d hurt them.  “Sorey,” he groaned.  “I won’t let you hurt him anymore.”

Lailah didn’t respond other than by initiating her a spell that whipped around him.  A wall of fire funneled around him, sucking air away until Mikleo couldn’t breathe.

“Sorey!” he cried with the last of the breath in his lungs and crumpled into a scorched black ring in the garden, losing consciousness on the way down.

\- - -

Sorey hugged his knees to his chest, huddled into a ball in the corner of his room.  Lailah’s scent was stronger that he remembered it ever being.  He could smell the sickly sweetness of it in the air.  It didn’t make his mouth water like Mikleo did.  Rather, it stirred up his feelings of regret and made him nostalgic for his innocence. 

He bit into his own hand until the skin as bruised and blood trickled from his mouth.  The pain distracted him from the smell, but not from the thoughts that plagued him.  He wanted Lailah to take Mikleo home to some place safe, but the idea of living another day in this castle without Mikleo’s stupid smirk or the warmth of his touch made him want to scream.     


When he heard a scream, he thought it was his own.  But no, the voice was Mikleo and shouting his name.    


Would Lailah really hurt him?  She’d fought with Sorey before, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t earned it.  Mikleo didn’t deserve to beaten or, more likely with Lailah, burned.    


Again, Mikleo was crying his name and in such pain, and thoughts left his head.  The world got blurry with his anger.  A voice bubbled up inside him growling,  _ how dare she hurt him _ .  The only light that ever shone on him.   _ How dare she take him from me. _

\- - -

Lailah wiped tears out of her eyes as she inspected Mikleo’s body.  He was still breathing, but he’d been burned terribly by her flames, his silk tunic charred black, stuck to his skin around the wound.  The attack that hit his chest was so hot as to sear the opening shut as quickly as it was made, leaving a blistering gouge in him.    


Kneeling, she lifted him up against her chest and squeezed him, crying.  “Please forgive me,” she said, casting a healing arte on the wound.  It was not as powerful as a water seraph’s, but it would help speed up his natural healing.  Then she kissed his forehead and lifted him up from the ground in her arms.  It might be the last time she’d ever be able to show him affection, at least until he could be purified.  When he regained consciousness, he wouldn’t be happy to see her.

“Let’s go somewhere safe,” she said to him.  “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“Where would that be?”

She sensed his presence before he spoke, of course.  She hadn’t been fast enough.  She turned, holding Mikleo’s prone form in her arms, to find Sorey standing there--not a day older than the last time they’d met.    


His voice was a growl and his eyes danced with the malicious glint that she’d learned meant he wasn’t fully in control.  He held his sword in one hand.

“Somewhere far away,” she said.  “Where he can get better.”

“You hurt him.”  The tip of his sword drug into the scorched ground as he walked slowly towards her.  “You  _ hurt _ him.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.  I love him and I want him to be safe, but he wouldn’t listen--He  _ loves _ you, or at least he thinks he does.   If I don’t take him away, he’ll let himself become a dragon for you.”

“Why do you care?  You sent him here to die.  You _poisoned_ him.”    


Lailah looked at Mikleo cradled in her arms.  There were so many reasons she’d allowed that to happen, but none of them were acceptable.  “He wished for that of his own will, I couldn’t--”

“And he wants to stay here.  Don’t you think--”  Sorey shook his head mid-sentence as if regaining some lucidity.  “Don’t you think I begged that annoying seraph to go, before he changed?”

“Sorey, please let me take him.”

“No!”  Sorey swung the sword.  He was still too far away for the blade to connect, but the shockwave that came from it sent her stepping back.  She managed to stay on her feet, but between Mikleo’s weight and the malevolence all around her, her movements were sluggish.    


She set Mikleo down as carefully as she could while being fast, but not fast enough.  Sorey was flying at her with the sword raised to strike before she could ready a counter attack.  All she managed to do was block the blade with her flaming cards, and the impact still sent her flying.

And he was at her again just as fast before she could recover, his hand around her neck throwing her into the stone wall that surrounded the grounds.    


“You haven’t learned a  _ thing _ .”  His eyes were lit with that telltale glow, but they were still focused and recognized her.  She panicked with the thought that maybe he’d learned to control it, and was doing so willingly.   “Don’t try to take everything on your own shoulders, Sorey!  Do you remember saying that?”

She choked for air and clawed as his arms as he pushed her harder against the wall.    


“Where are your friends, Lailah?”  His spit landed on her cheeks.  “If you intend to take the one thing I love from me, you should have come with an army!”

“S-Sor-” She couldn’t form the words.  Then it began to happen.  Sorey’s mouth slacked open and saliva dripped from his lips.    


“You smell… Like old… smell...”

His words were weaker, he couldn’t form a sentence.  His eyes were clouded and looked right through her.  It was out of his control, still, after all this time.

Tears streamed down her face, but she smiled.  If she died, there would be no one left to lend the shepherd their purification powers.  But a least, if she was consumed, Sorey would rest a good long rest, and Mikleo would be saved.  If she could save only one life after all with her own, then Mikleo’s was the one she’d choose.  

But Sorey didn’t bite her.  The grip around her neck slacked.    


She dropped to the ground choking, unable to summon her voice.  She looked up.  Sorey stood over her grasping his head, a pained expression twisting his features monstrously.

“Get…” he groaned, barely pushing the words through his teeth.  “Get out of here.”

Lailah took one last look at Mikleo lying on the ground with that sweet angelic look on his face, and knew she couldn’t save him.    


Tears clouded her vision as she picked herself up and ran into the forest away from the manor and Sorey, and poor Mikleo.    


She ran for most of the night, and not in the direction of Elysia.  She couldn’t wait for someone who might be a shepherd.  She'd go to Ladylake.  While she’d stop in the cathedral and pray, pray for Sorey and Mikleo to be saved, if it couldn’t be done, then it fell to her to prepare humanity to use what conventional means they could find.

  
To slay a dragon.


	8. The Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hurting is over for now, please enjoy some fluff.

Mikleo opened his eyes to soft candle light.  He found himself lying on his back in his bed with its silk canopy, blankets neatly tucked around him.  He sniffed the air.  It smelled of garlic.

The memory of what had happened didn’t crash into him until a few seconds after he opened his eyes, and he groaned as he sat up, feeling his chest.  There was a bandage around it under a new shirt.  It was black and too big for him, maybe one of Sorey’s.

Sorey reclined a chair next to his bed with dirty boots kicked up on the nightstand.  Mikleo frowned at that, then remembered he may very well have killed Lailah for all he knew.  Feet on the table was the last thing he should scold him about.

“Lailah went home,” Sorey said, before Mikleo could even open his mouth.  He took his feet off the nightstand set the book he’d been reading on its surface next to the candle lamp.  “I don’t have healing artes or anything, but I patched you up with the best medicine I’ve ever plundered.”

The oversized shirt he’d been changed into was loose and opened in the front to let his wound breathe.  His pants had been left alone.  He shook his head and sighed.  “You beat Lailah in a fight?  I mean I know you’re the Lord of Calamity and all, but I thought the title was more ceremonial.”

Sorey shrugged and clicked his tongue, smirking.  “I spare your dear teacher’s life, and this is the thanks I get?”

Mikleo let relief wash over him.  “I’m just really glad,” he started, trying to find the words.  He looked down and toyed with the fabric of his blankets between his fingers  “I’m glad you weren’t pushed too far.  That you controlled yourself.”

“I don’t really know how I held back,” Sorey groaned, rubbing at the back of his head.  He looked almost more annoyed than confused.  “All I remember is wanting to hurt her,  _ really _ wanting to.”

Mikleo raised his head and smiled.  “But you didn’t.”

They looked at each other for moment that went on not long enough for Mikleo, but too long for Sorey.  He stood and turned away.  “Just wait here a minute and don’t do anything dumb, like try to get up.”

Mikleo draped himself back into the pillows with a sigh.  “So the lord of the castle treats the servant today, huh?”

“Just--”  Sorey tried to come up with a retort, but huffed and left the room instead.  Mikleo chuckled.

While he was gone, Mikleo stared up at his bed’s canopy and rattling thoughts troubled him, though he’d rather not think at all.  How did he get Lailah to leave?  And would she come back?

Sorey returned to the bedroom a few minutes later with a bowl and a spoon.  He thrust it at Mikleo’s face. It was the source of the garlic smell he’d noted earlier.    


“What’s that?”  Mikleo reared his head back and looked down into the bowl of steamy chunks of... something.

“It’s soup.”

His eyes went up to Sorey’s face.  The red tint there couldn’t be just a trick of the light.  “You made me soup?”

“Yeah.  You’re sick, so you get soup.”

Mikleo took the bowl in his hands and smiled as he took a bite.  It was underseasoned other than the garlic, which had been added too generously.  The chunks, which revealed themselves to be potatoes, were cut into inconsistent sizes and as a result had been cooked to varying degrees of doneness.  Mikleo ate every bite.

\- - -

Though the only visible injury to him was the burn on his upper torso, he had been unconscious for more than a day, and still felt lethargic.  After eating the soup he’d napped for several more hours while Sorey disappeared back into the manor, confident now that Mikleo wasn’t going to die.

It was some time later when he brought a hot kettle of water to the room along with a tea set on a tray, and a tin of some exotic kind of tea Mikleo had never seen before.  A noble somewhere in the world had most likely been furious when informed about their ship’s mishap of running into pirates.  Then those pirates had encountered a ‘mishap’ of their own, and now the Lord of Calamity was steeping some very expensive tea for him.  He had to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“What’s funny?” Sorey asked, as he carefully poured steaming water.  The first cup spilled over and Sorey didn’t even curse, he nonchalantly tipped the edge until the excess spilled onto the already damaged floorboards.

Mikleo watched him bumble around and shook his head.  “Are you okay, Sorey?” 

Sorey didn’t look up.  He looked at the tea leaves and the clamshell infuser, unsure of what to do next.   “What are you talking about?”

“You’re being really uh, sweet to me?”

Sorey was distracted from that with momentary success, trapping tea leaves into the infuser and dunking it.  Dark red-brown seeped into the water until it was a vibrant amber.  “You do this for me every day and I never think it’s  _ sweet _ .”  Yet there he stood mixing honey in.

Mikleo covered his mouth to hide his laugh.  “But when you do it, it’s weird.”

“Do you even know how to say thank you?”

Mikleo smiled, without teasing this time.  “Thank you.”

That earned him an indignant snort. “Just drink your tea, it’s supposed to have some kind of healing properties.”

He took the cup and sipped.  It had floral notes with a medicinal sharpness and the mellow sweetness of Sorey’s honey--which Mikleo realized then he must have been hoarding somewhere, since he’d never seen it in the pantry.  He wondered what other things Sorey might have tucked away, while watching the fallen shepherd feeling around for an old leather bag that had been left by the bed.  He lifted it onto the bed and opened it, revealing gauze bandages and various medicines.    


“When you’re done, I need to dress your wounds again.”

Mikleo set the tea cup and its saucer on the side table.  “Very well.”  He tossed the blankets off and began to unbutton his shirt.  With a sigh, he realized his new tunic must have been shredded and burnt to cinders.  “I supposed I ruined yet another of your generous gifts.”

“I told you, I have a whole room full of that crap.”

“But I liked the color.”  It had been a deeper, more gem-like blue than the last.  That reminded him--Sorey had been disheveled before, and now he was quite clean and dressed in new clothes.  Still a limited palette of reds and blacks, but without the cloak at least.  “Did you take a bath?”

“Yeah,” Sorey answered, shortly.  He sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “Turn around, it goes around your back.  I can’t believe you really tangled with Lailah.”

“Me either.”    


Sorey took apart the old bandages from behind him, carefully peeling them away from his skin.  They’d been laced with ointment and came away without pulling at the scabbing flesh at all.   “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s been pretty much numb this whole time.”    


“Don’t sound so relieved, that isn’t a good sign.”  Sorey put a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled at him.  “Here, lie on your back.”

Mikleo did as he was told, and laid into the bed again.  The candle’s light danced over his soft, pale skin, and the crusty and blistered injury.  Suddenly his skin reminded him of a marshmallow left over the campfire too long, and he tried not to look at it.  

Sorey averted his eyes as well, although if he had to guess, it wasn’t for the same reason.  Mikleo didn’t mind being shirtless at all, but apparently the Lord of Calamity was bashful.  “I can do it myself if you’d rather not.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Sorey dabbed him with the medicine-soaked cloth.  This time he inspected the wound closely  “I hope it doesn’t scar too much.”

“Normally my skin is resilient to this sort of damage,” Mikleo sighed.  “Once I’m rested, I’ll use my artes on it and it’ll be fine.”

Sorey’s brow furrowed as he concentrated even harder on his task, applying the medicine with such a delicate touch that it tickled.  He hung over Mikleo with that ridiculous intense look on his face.  Mikleo lifted his hand and brushed his bangs out of his eyes for him.  Sorey lifted his head, frowning.

"Hey I'm trying to administer important medical care here, don't go getting all frisky."

Mikleo retracted the affectionate touch of his hand and pouted.  “ _ Frisky? _ ”

“You know what I mean.”    


He sat up and folded his arms over his chest, which aggravated Sorey’s attempts to redress him with gauze.  “I really don’t.”

“Yeah you do, and if you let your little heart beat too fast, your wounds won’t heal.” 

Mikleo rolled his eyes.  “My physiology doesn’t even work that way.”

“You might be an annoying ghost with a physical form held together mostly by willpower, but you still bleed and scab up like a human.” Sorey huffed a breath through his nose.  “So stop moving so much, or you’ll hurt yourself.”    


Mikleo relaxed and allowed Sorey to wrap the clean bandages around him.  There was some tugging back and forth and some arguing over whether it was too loose or too tight, but in the end Mikleo was fitted with a neat dressing.  Impressed by it, even.      


He let himself drop back against the pillows, already exhausted.    


Sorey shoved the medical supplies back into the bag and dropped it blindly over the side of the bed, not even flinching at the clunk of it hitting the floor.  Between the tea and the bath tub incident, the floorboards were ruined anyway, Mikleo thought as he tossed his arm over his face and groaned. 

He felt Sorey lift his weight off the mattress and expected to hear the door shut behind him a second later.  Instead, Sorey leaned over him, shoulders casting him in shadow, and pushed Mikleo’s arm up away from his eyes.  His hand cupped Mikleo’s cheek.    


Mikleo was too astonished by this to lean into the warmth of Sorey's hand, as he’d wanted to do.  Instead, he stared back at him with a dumbfounded look on his face, lips pressed into an awkward not-smile.

“Your heart beats like a human’s just like mine,” Sorey said.  “So get some rest.”

Mikleo smirked.  “Yes my lord, as you command.”

Sorey whipped his hand back like he’d been stung by a bee. “Don’t start that again!”

\- - -

Two more days passed and Mikleo felt well enough to get out of bed.  He needed to stretch his legs and get out of his clothes.    


He’d barely taken a step before he heard Sorey thundering down the hall.  He hand his arms folded across his chest bitterly before the door swung open, Sorey behind it, back in full regalia today with his cloak.

“Who said you could get out of bed?”

“Wasn’t aware I needed your written permission to _briefly stand_.”

Sorey let that slide and looked him up and down carefully.  “Well, you do seem better.”    


“Of course I am.”  He’d been administering his own healing artes on top of Sorey’s attentive care, and the wound was disappearing at a rapid rate.  “I’m not going to run a marathon, I just wanted to ask you for more clothes.”  He was still dressed in an oversized shirt and dirty, battered, pants.    


Sorey repeated the up and down look, this time lingering on his bare feet and his messy hair.  “The rough morning look suits you, though.”

“Uhg!”  Mikleo balled his fists by his sides.  “These pants are gross, please bring me something to wear!”

Confusion spread across Sorey’s face.  “I showed you where I keep all that stuff.  If you’re well, just go get whatever you want.”

“Can’t you bring it to me?”

“So you’re not feeling well.”

Mikleo threw his hands up.  “That’s not it, I’m perfectly capable!”

The motion was mimicked by Sorey, at a total loss.  “What the hell then?”

The sleeves of Sorey’s shirt on him were far too long and he rubbed sleep crust out of his eyes with the hem of it over his hand.  “I just,” he mumbled behind the sleeve.  “I like to wear what you pick out for me.”

Sorey stared blankly for a moment then sputtered.  “I just grabbed whatever, you know?”

Unless Sorey had a highly specific penchant for robbing only small-framed bandits who liked blue, that was not the case. Mikleo didn’t respond except for with a slant-eyed look and a pout.

Sorey gave in with a sigh.  “Okay, I’ll bring you some clothes to wear, damn.”

He stormed out of the room waving his arms in frustration and mimicking, “ _ I like the clothes **you** pick out, Sorey! _ ” 

\- - -

While he was gone, Mikleo filled the tub with pure, cold water.  He stripped off the disgusting pants and smallclothes that should have rightly been burned along with the rest, and unbuttoned the black shirt.  No sense putting clean clothes on himself if his body was still gross.

He peeled back the bandages to check his wound as well, and it had turned from crusty red and brown to pure white.  Sorey would be happy to know that he no longer needed the dressing, and that the scar was fading with each treatment.

The cold water was a refreshing chill against his skin as he dipped in and waited for Sorey to come back with the clothes.  Some time later, he did, and sulked to find Mikleo bathing.

“I thought you wanted to walk around.”

Mikleo leaned his head back in the tub and sighed, contented.  “I do, but after I’m clean.”

“Well, I brought clothes like you asked.” 

“Thank you.”

\- - -

For the first time in the past several days, Sorey allowed the tension of his worries to leave him in a deep breath.  The sight of Mikleo soaking in fresh water with his head tilted back against the rim of the tub and his feet propped up on the opposite side eased his mind more than anything yet.  Mikleo was back to where he should be in their usual, although fundamentally twisted version of normal.

He hadn’t  _ changed _ or anything.  If only the scar left by his teeth would heal as easily as the burn of Lailah's flame.  


“Are you going to just stand there?” Mikleo laughed, turning his head over his bare shoulder to smirk teasingly at Sorey.  That was a sight.  Sorey forgot he was holding a stack of folded clothes and stood, staring.  Mikleo shook his head.  “If you don’t want to get in, you’d better just go do something else.”

“Oh.”  A bigger tub, he needed one.  Wait, no he didn’t.  Shit.

“ _ Oh? _  That’s it?”  Mikleo frowned.  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Sorey snapped out of it and tossed the clothes on the bed.  “Fine, I guess I’ll just go lurk in my castle like some kind of evil villain until you’re done primping.”

Mikleo shrugged.  “Have fun.”

He bristled, not sure if he was more annoyed, amused, or a the third thing that was definitely happening, but which Sorey wasn’t able to put a proper name to yet.  

 

He slammed the door on his way out.

\- - -

 

He kicked his legs up over the armrest on the throne in the main audience room, holding his favorite book over his head and examining its illustrations by torch light.  Most were amazing in their artistry, but there were a few that failed.  With only black and white ink to work with, it was impossible to capture the majesty of certain locales.    


Like the ocean.  If Mikleo had only seen it in these pictures, he didn’t know what it sounded like, or how it smelled.    


He heard footsteps in the foyer and looked up just as Mikleo entered the room.

“I thought you hated white.”

The set of clothes Sorey had chosen for Mikleo were mostly white and silver, with a midnight blue split cape that stood out in sharp contrast, but not as much as Mikleo’s amazing violet eyes.  Eye color, Sorey had come to understand, was a trait that seraphim retained from their original human forms--mystical eye color wasn’t part of the immortality deal.  This meant Mikleo was rare among the rare, and a beauty most humans would never behold.

  
He put the book down carefully and sat upright in the throne.  “You’ve changed my mind.”


	9. Stormy Forecast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I was unsure about this chapter so I hope that you like it. It's quite long, and it's sort of an interlude. Sorey invents a huge distraction to avoid facing the inevitable. The boys use whatever excuse to explore some ruins. It's only slightly dark around the edges.

Whenever Sorey was on that throne, he got an especially cocky look on his face.  Amazing what a slightly taller chair could do for a man’s confidence.    


Mikleo approached and leaned in with his hands on the armrest.  “Did you get enough lurking around in for today?”

“Plenty.”  Sorey stretched his arms over his head and slipped one around Mikleo’s waist.  Mikleo sulked at being pulled closer, but Sorey only grinned more. “I was thinking we could use a vacation.”

“I didn’t think Lord of Calamity was a job that came with time off.”

“Oh no, me being the master of all darkness is an essential element to my travel plans.”

Mikleo sighed and bit the hook.  “Fine, explain to me where you’d like to go.”

“I want more books, and I also want to see the ocean again.”

“Sure, and this wouldn’t have anything to Lailah going free to return here with reinforcements at any time.”

“Of course not.”

It was opposite day in Sorey land, apparently.  Mikleo rolled his eyes and pushed away from the throne and Sorey’s grasp.  “You want to just go, I don’t know, touring around the countryside?”

“More like marauding, but yeah.”    


“Why this, suddenly?”

Sorey stood from his throne, taking the book with him.  “You told me you wanted to see these things,” he said, tapping the cover.  “I want you to see them.  As many as we can see together.”

Mikleo held his tongue and considered letting that simple, sweet reasoning go, smiling and pretending it had no other meaning.  But they couldn’t live in a land of denial.  “Before I turn into a hellion, you mean?”

“No.”  Sorey tucked the book under one arm and flicked a piece of Mikleo’s hair away from his face with the other.  “Because we can do anything we want.”

 

\- - -

 

Mikleo stood with arms and legs crossed, scowling,  as Sorey waved his arms in a welcoming fashion to present his secret stash.

A ballroom with a ceiling vaulted in white marble, once lit with crystal chandeliers, was now a storage room for insane and miscellaneous crap.  Without even digging in, he could spot paintings from different eras in history, crates of tea, a bust of some historical figure that Sorey marvelously hadn’t destroyed in a rage,  _ more _ books, wheels for carts, cut lumber that could have been used to fix the floors around here but never had been, dried foodstuffs galore--a box of candies, for fuck’s sake--and all this junk was punctuated here and there with a sword or spear lodged between objects, sticking up like weeds in the weirdest garden ever.          


“I thought you’d be pleased.,” Sorey said with a frown.  “This is  _ kind of _ my inner sanctum, I wouldn’t show it to just anybody, you know.”

“You have a ballista.”

“Oh yeah, that thing is loads of fun.”

“And a  _ cannon _ .”

“Who doesn’t need a cannon?”  

Mikleo didn’t bother pointing out the fact that none of these weapons were in any logical position to defend the castle from invaders, and that alone rendered them useless junk.  “Just help me find anything that might service us on the trip, please.”

This journey was sounding like a worse idea by the second, but anything that kept Sorey engaged and excited, rather than moping about and waiting for the world to end, was worth pursuing.  He watched Sorey digging through the piles of his collected things and smiled, seeing how unusually animated he was.  There was a brightness in his eyes that had never been there before.

“Oh, I have some backpacks somewhere.”

Mikleo waited, not daring to attempt walking through this mess.  But this was the one room where the windows weren’t blotted out, and he could see the garden from here faintly by the light of the moon.  “By the way, so what happens to this place while you’re away?”

Sorey explained while stepping bowlegged through his piles of antiquity, trying not to fall over.  “The domain just follows me around,” he said, digging out some old maps.  “But the malevolence is so saturated here, the sun doesn’t really break through even when I’m gone.”

“Still, if we were gone for a few months, it may give the land some much needed relief.”       


Sorey shrugged.  “I’d rather it didn’t.  I don’t want boring normal plants growing messing up my roses.”

“You really do care about those flowers, don’t you?”

He tossed a bag with a small cast iron pan in it to Mikleo.  It clanged at his feet, prompting at eye roll.  Sorey just kept digging.  “They’re the only beautiful things around here,” he said, then added a short laugh.  “Except for you, of course.”

“Yeah,  _ of course _ .”  Mikleo shook his head in dismay, wondering if Sorey was teasing him back for the shots he’d take, earlier, or if he really meant it.  Both, to some degree, were probably true.    


Sorey continued, an hint of excitement to his voice.  “Oh, and when I move around, humans tend to perceive a thunderstorm, and it can really mess with ship schedules.  So if we want to catch some pirates we have to be tricky about it.” 

“Are you even remotely capable of passing as human?”

“Why would I want to?”

He lifted his hands up and leaned his head back in response to that, as if asking the ceiling to fall on him  “I don’t know, maybe so that we might find food and shelter at a nice inn without murdering anyone?”

“You’ll cook for me, won’t you?”  He looked up, genuinely worried.

“I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

Sorey laughed.  “Oh, do you want to go to the hot spring spa in Marlind and have a nice soak?”

It was sarcastic, but Mikleo’s eyes lit up at the thought.  “Could we?”

Sorey snorted a laugh.  Then he smiled and his laugh was contented.  He walked back to Mkleo and clapped his hand onto the top of his head.  Mikleo didn’t quite appreciate this gesture as it made him feel small.

“Anything you want,” Sorey said, fondly.  Then, just as soon as Mikleo thought he could let Sorey pet him without sulking in annoyance, Sorey’s smile tightened back into a teasing smirk.  “If you’re a good boy, I might even buy you something nice.”

Ice cold water to the face.

 

\- - -

 

The night was calm and chilly when they set out, and the moon was in a near-full phase, shining through the entangled branches of trees, casting a web of shadows.  Neither Sorey nor Mikleo needed a typical amount of food or sleep, so they planned to walk until they’d reached the border of the domain at least.

It wasn’t until they’d been walking for hours that the idea settled in, but Mikleo realized he now had Sorey’s company exclusively to himself.  His fallen shepherd wouldn’t be able to growl and scurry off to some remote corner of the mansion if any topic of discussion became too troublesome to think about.    


What’s more, he understood now that Sorey wanted to be with him.  He must want him near, or else this adventure would be the last thing he’d suggest.  Still, when he brushed past him too close, Sorey stepped away.

Sorey walked ahead, clearing the brush where it became too thick to walk through with his sword, and lifting the low branches out of Mikleo’s path.

He didn’t speak at all other than small grunts in the affirmative or negative until they reached a meadow speckled with the first white flowers that Mikleo had seen since leaving Elysia.  He crouched down to touch one and smell its perfume. 

“Careful now,” Sorey scolded.  “That one’ll make you sick.”

“I wasn’t going to  _ eat _ it.”  Mikleo rolled his eyes.  “I recognize it from your books.  Saintsbane, correct?”

Sorey huffed a laugh.  “Even just the pollen can make a man dizzy.”

It had no effect on Mikleo.  Most poisons didn’t.  The smell was unlike any flower he’d found, rich and buttery rather than sweet, as if specifically to lure hungry humans to their deaths.   “We must be near the end of your domain if they’re growing.”

Sorey crouched and plucked one of the flowers, then held it to compare with Mikleo’s face.  Its pure white petals with their pearlescent shimmer matched Mikleo’s hair perfectly. “Yes, as you can see, the world has plenty of poison in it without my intervention.”

Mikleo groaned and took the flower out of his hands.  “Do you have to be like that about everything?  The world’s angstiest poet?”

Sorey smirked and tucked the blossom behind Mikleo’s ear, earning him a deadly scowl.  “Your poison can never wound me so much as your words, my white flower.”

Mikleo rubbed the spot between his brows where he felt a headache coming on.  “This trip is going to be intolerable, isn’t it?”

 

\- - -

 

They made their way through the forests to the fields beyond.  At the edge of Sorey’s domain, the the sun filtered through cloudy, grey skies.  It would have been difficult to tell had they not been in perpetual darkness for so long, but it was day.     


Mikleo seemed so fascinated with even the slightest bit of natural light.  His eyes widened and he took a deep breath, scanning the countryside back and forth. “I wish could take you some place with more sun,” Sorey said, rubbing at the back of his head and forcing himself to laugh at this. 

As if to punctuate the awkwardness, the skies opened up and began to pour on them.  “My fault,” he sighed, letting his shoulders slump.

But Mikleo only turned to him with his eyes sparkling and hands balled together in excitement.  “It’s raining!” 

Sorey laughed at himself again for expecting anything less.  “Right.  Water seraph.  How do I forget?”    


Mikleo reigned in his enthusiasm and continued to walk on towards the little town on the horizon.  Sorey let him walk ahead now that they were away from the dangers of the forest, and delighted in the spring in his steps that he couldn’t hide.    


How could Mikleo be malevolent?  He was so pure and free out here, with pouring rain soaking them both to the bones.  But it had already started and couldn’t be undone.  While Lailah might have seen fit to remove Mikleo by force, he knew that even that would not stop the festering darkness in his heart.    


Because this in itself proved that Mikleo cared for him, more than just someone trying to nurse a sick man back to health.  He couldn’t understand why, after he’d been so terrible to him, but Mikleo had not turned simply due to the malevolence of his domain.  It was something more than that.  Only a deep-seeded conflict of conscience could turn a seraph so quickly.  He found himself letting himself believe, maybe, that Mikleo loved him--that the unfairness and injustice of the malevolence and its workings, he invited those dark feelings in.    


He knew he could not stop it once it began.  Instead, he became determined to fill Mikleo’s heart with happiness, to lavish on him everything the world had to offer.  He’d know so much joy that the malevolence in his heart would shrink into the shadows, always a part of him but never consuming him.  He’d never become a dragon, because Sorey would love him.  He’d love this stupid, innocent seraph.    


Mikleo stopped and turned, laughing.  “You’ve got a stupid look on your face.”

 

\---

 

This would only be Mikleo’s second visit to a human settlement.  While lacking the beauty and wonder of ladylake, the town on the riverbed was still quite interesting for the picture into typical human life it painted.  Villagers sowed seeds in the earth.  Mikleo winced, knowing the oncoming rain would wash them away.

Not a single person looked up at him.  He really was like a ghost, as Sorey was fond of saying.

The humans noticed Sorey.  Although they couldn’t see some of his features, like the glare in his eyes, or sense the malevolence emanating from him, they did perceive him as a man.    


They reached the town and made their way through wood-paneled buildings and cobblestone paths, as people carefully avoided Sorey.  He may have looked like a teenage youth, but his cloak was menacing enough to cause a stir.

“Hm, I wonder what’s going on.”    


Mikleo looked up, but could not tell what Sorey was talking about.  The humans fleeing his general path seemed normal, considering how he was dressed and the sword that he carried.  “What is it?”

“Some of the houses are boarded up, and a few of the shops I’ve noticed were closed.  It’s what people do when they expect an attack.”

“Maybe you can ask at the inn?”

Sorey gave one of his affirmative grunts.

 

\- - -

 

When they reached the building, Sorey kicked the door open with a bang, announcing his presence, to which Mikleo hung his head and sighed.    


Inside the front doors was a common area, much more humble than the one Mikleo had explored in Ladylake.  Just a few wooden tables and chairs.  The handful of people sitting there looked up at the clatter.  Some were annoyed at this brash kid dressed in his elaborate black and gold, but others knew well enough to be afraid.

“I need a room for two,” he announced.

The little old lady who owned the place hobbled up to him, adjusting her glasses.  “Sir, we only have single bed rooms.”

Sorey leaned over and stared into her face.  She must be near-sighted, Mikleo thought, since she didn’t flinch until Sorey was an inch away from her nose.  “I’m afraid that’s just not good enough.”

“Sorey,” Mikleo scolded.  “If you are trying to impress me, giving an elderly woman a hard time certainly isn’t.”

“Please Mikleo,” Sorey said to the space beside him, as far as anyone else could tell.  “I’m building up a  _ mystique _ and then we can just take anything we want, because they’ll be so terrified and in awe of us.”

“Well they can’t see  _ me _ , for one thing.”

“Oh, I forgot about that!  It has been such a long time.”  Sorey sighed and dramatically ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in faux dismay.  “I pity you fools, for this beauty you cannot behold.”

Mikleo groaned.

“W-well,” the old woman stammered.  “If you really must have two beds, you can take my room--since my poor husband passed, I shan’t be needing both beds anyway.  Just please don’t take any more from an old lady, those infernal bandits have cleaned out the place as it is.  I barely have sheets or pillows left.”

Mikleo grabbed Sorey’s arm and squeezed it.  “Tell her one bed is fine.”

“Anything you wish, my flower.” Sorey reveled in the flat-eyed death daggers of a glare Mikleo shot at  him for that, then turned his attention to the woman again.  “One bed is fine, after all.”

 

\- - -

 

“This place is a dump.”  Sorey sat on the edge of the bed and groused, stripped down to his smallclothes, letting the rest dry over the back of a chair.  “I wanted to take you some place extravagant.”

Mikleo took a cloth from the linens and draped it over Sorey’s head.  “It’s kind of your fault, you know,” he said, while rubbing the rainwater out of Sorey’s hair.  “Because things have trouble growing under your domain, the local area’s crops have diminished, and that means banditry is on the rise.”

“Sounds like it’s more because humans are stubborn and greedy, then.”  Sorey sighed and let himself fall against the bed.  He looked up at Mikleo from an upside-down point of view.  “When I traveled all that time ago, I saw vast, spacious lands all over the world, and yet people have to fight over the little scrap of it that’s here.”

Mikleo bent and kissed Sorey’s forehead.  “This is their home, so of course they want to stay here.”

Sorey shot up again.

Mikleo slumped his shoulders, thinking that was asking too much and he shouldn’t have done it.  “I’m sorry, did I get too close to you?”

“No, you’re fine.”    


“But you pulled away.”

Sorey put on a mischievous grin to dismiss the inquiry.  “You can rub my shoulders if you want.”

“No thanks.  Can I just get some sleep?”

“Go ahead.”

Mikleo laid down in the bed.  His white clothes were dry thanks to his control over his element, and he’d removed the capes and belts to sleep in.  The room was dark except for a candle’s light.  He knew that seraphim didn’t need to sleep, but he felt himself drifting off as soon as he closed his eyes.

And even more as Sorey stroked his fingers gently through his hair and over his head.  So close to sleep, he could not find the words to describe how frustrating Sorey could be.

 

\- - -

 

Mikleo woke to a sound he cherished, the erratic but soft pattering of rain against the roof.    


It was dark.  He stretched his arm in the bed to feel for Sorey.  How nice it would be to wake before he did, curl into his side, and listen to the rain.  But Sorey was not there, not even a hint of warmth was left in the space beside him.

He sat up and found Sorey, now properly dressed, standing near the window, a dark shape against the faintest light.  He wondered if the presence of even that small amount of light meant it was day already.  Like at the manor, it was difficult to tell.

Sorey, who had been in good spirits the night before, now stood silently with an unreadable expression on his face, stark in contrasting light when a flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second, heralded by a crash of thunder.

“How long has it been?” Mikleo asked.

“Eight hours, about.”

“Shall we be going?”

Sorey turned.  “Only if you’re rested.”

“More than rested,” Mikleo sighed, falling back into the blankets.  The sound of the rain was a rare sensation he wanted to hold onto just a moment longer.  But then he thought of the top soil washing away, the farmers losing their entire season’s work, and groaned as he sat up again.  “Yes, I am more than well rested.”

 

\- - -

 

After waiting for him to get dressed, Sorey followed Mikleo down the stairs and back into the inn’s common room, which was packed wall to wall with town residents drinking, playing cards, or otherwise bemoaning their fate to each other.

“What time is it now?” Mikleo wondered aloud.  Sorey didn’t know.  “Why are they all here?”

“Nothing else to do with the sky falling down but drink I guess,” Sorey answered.    


Mikleo’s arrival in the room before him caught absolutely no attention, but as Sorey strode through it, people glared dirty looks, or hushed and got out of his way.  Crowds parting like the pages of an open book to make way for him was something he’d grown used to long before he’d fallen.  As the shepherd they shrank back out of reverence, and now it was out of hatred and fear.

“Do they know who you are?”

Sorey shrugged.  With all the local legends about him, some of them had to have guessed.

He figured that Mikleo, being the kind of goody-two-shoes that he himself used to be, would object if he didn’t pay the woman for the room they’d used.  But Sorey had no knowledge or interest for what passed as currency in the human world these days, and leaving her an expensive trinket would only attract more criminals to her doorstep.

He passed the old woman and pulled a knife from under his cloak.  She flinched, and he expected that.  But when Mikleo’s eyes went wide, he found himself a little hurt.  What point would there be in harming a kindly old woman?  Sheathed in his scabbard, he held it out to her, handle first to take.

The woman’s nobby hand wrapped around the grip and she accepted the gift.    


They left the inn and stepped out into the rain, which was pouring torrentially by the time they reached the road.  Drying their clothes had been a pointless effort.  Mikleo leaned in and raised his voice so that Sorey could hear him over the rain.

“Did you just pay for our room with an old knife?”

“It was a cheap room.”

“Come on, Sorey.”

“The knife belonged to a noble from three dynasties ago, and is a much sought-after relic.”

“Do you think she can sell it?”

“Yes, for more than what this whole town is worth, but I really hope the next time a raider tries to steal what little she has left, she’ll plunge it right into his heart, instead.”

 

\- - -

 

“If you’re quite done sewing the seeds of discord…”

They walked out of town to spare the villagers the rain. The more distance he put between himself and the humans spewing their malevolence, the lighter the rain became, until it was no more than a refreshing drizzle in the fields.

“Oh, because I armed an old woman?” he snickered.  “If I’m going to spread malevolence either way, I’d rather give the good people a fighting chance.”

Mikleo blinked wide eyes back at him for a moment.  “Is that why?” Then he regained his usual composed stance.  “It would be easy for us to route the bandits and relieve them of their problem.”

“Now you’re thinking like,” Sorey stopped himself from saying  _ the old me _ .  “An inexperienced shepherd.”      


Mikleo was intrigued, that much was obvious from his narrowed eyes trained on him. “Oh?”  He didn’t like to talk about himself, but he did like those eyes.    


“Helping everyone,” he said.  “Sometimes, humans have to figure stuff out for themselves.”    


“Aren’t you human, though?” He smirked when he said it, and his tone was intended to tease him.    


But Sorey thought about that.  “I suppose I am.  But eh, those bandits must not have anything cool if they’re marauding in this crappy town.”

Mikleo stopped in front of him and turned on his heels so that they were facing each other.  He tapped his chin, and there was mischief in his eyes.  Sorey liked that look even more.    


“While you were  _ building mystique _ ,” he said, tasting the words, “I overheard that those bandits might be hiding out in the Galahad ruins.”  He pulled a piece of his hair and made himself look dramatically sad.  “I’ve only seen them in the Celestial Record, and I’ve always dreamed of seeing them in real life.  It’s too bad you’re so staunchly opposed to the idea.”

“Okay, you don’t have to lay it on so thick,” Sorey said.  He put his hands on his hips and breathed in deep.  “Let’s go root out some bandits.”  

 

     - - -

  
  


Mikleo tried to keep up his cool act, but the first step into the Galahad ruins took his breath away in marvel. “This is amazing.”    


The extent of the underground construction seemed on par with the ruins he had explored as a child.  These were not as expansive as those had been, winding through the mountain cliffs that rose above the clouds in elysia.  But these were just as impressive in their design, the style of art more delicate and fanciful, with vaulted arches reaching up into opening that let in sunlight--what little of it there was.    


Sorey conjured a flame in his hand.  Mikleo had noticed his power over flame before at the manor, and had thought little of it.  But knowing that Lailah still held some connection to him, no matter how frayed, he wondered if it was a small part of her that lit their path.

“Did you come here to nerd out or to rough up some thieves?”

“Both,” Mikleo answered with a smile.

 

\- - -

 

The thieves had holed themselves in a corner of the ruins with multiple entrance points.  Mikleo was dismayed to see that they were not the muscle-bound, eyepatch-wearing, scarred and tattooed thugs he envisioned from the pages of his books.  They were no more than a  collection of scrawny youths who had traded their morality for food.  For the first time, Mikleo felt the heady pull of malevolence calling to him, drawing him towards it.    


At the sight of Sorey, they scurried into the depths of the ruins like rats, and Mikleo was glad.    


“Aw.”  Sorey shrugged.  “And I thought I’d get to see you fight them for me.”

“You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

Sorey ignored his tone and kicked over one of their pots, spilling oats on the floor.  “See, I told you,” he said.  “Nothing but food stores and basic tools in their little treasure trove.”

“They don’t look organized,” Mikleo thought aloud.  “I don’t  feel like tracking all of them down just to teach them a lesson.”

“Ah, but here, look!”    


Sorey pushed a stack of crates and boxes aside, giving no attention to their contents. Behind them was a  painted wall.  Mikleo could not make out the illustration until Sorey wiped it with his gloved hand, removing years of dirt, and held the light of his flame up to it.

Underneath was an image of human figures holding up their arms before a larger, darker form.  Broad-shouldered and dressed in black, he had yellow slits for eyes, like a reptile.

Sorey was ecstatic at the discovery.  He grinned--not menacingly, but in utter self-pleasing gusto--posing in front of the mural.  “A good likeness of me, huh?”

Mikleo rolled his eyes.  “These ruins are at least five hundred years old,” he said.  “Even with your long history, there’s no way it could be you.”

“What if it was added later?” Sorey egged him on, nudging him in the side with his elbow.  “What if it was added later in attempts to protect these lands from the great and terrible menace that is the fallen shepherd?”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Ha!  You’re just jealous.”

Mikleo turned his head, but couldn’t stop Sorey from seeing his smile.

 

\- - -

 

After hours--maybe days, time was so unnecessary to them-- they had thoroughly explored the ruins, with no more run-ins with petty robbers.  The debate over the likeness of the Lord of Calamity was left undecided.  Sorey had even found a modicum of loot, mostly foodstuffs.  They returned to the surface, to find the sky dimly lit, the sun hiding behind the blanket of clouds.  But there was light, and it wasn’t raining.

Mikleo turned to Sorey, carrying his bounty in a sack over his shoulder and looking very happy about it.  “Sorey.”

“Hm?” He looked up just in time to take a step back as Mikleo placed his hand on his arm.    


Mikleo noted his first reaction to back away, and held in a sigh.  “Can we go home?”

Sorey frowned at him.  “We’ve been traveling less than a week.  I thought you wanted to go to Marlind and soak in their mineral baths.”

“I can take a bath any time I want.”

“But we didn’t find any books.” 

Mikleo knew it was pushing his limits, but he decided to take the risk.  He clutched the front of Sorey’s cloak and lowered his head in close, not quite leaning into his shoulder.  “I just want to go home,” he said.  “I don’t need to see anymore.  Not right now.”

He felt the patter of rain beginning on his head and shoulders.  Sorey’s arm wrapped around him.  “Just one more place,” Sorey said.  “Will you indulge me just a little more?”

Mikleo breathed in deeply.  Sorey’s cloak was still damp and smelled like rain.  He let himself be held, and Sorey held him.  Something as simple as that had seemed impossible.

“I’ll go wherever you go.”

 

\- - -

 

They traveled for days more, avoiding towns and farms.    


When the rain was light, they had stopped at an outcrop of stone risen above the muddy earth to sleep.  Mikleo had asked if it was okay to lean against him, more comfortable than the naked rock.  Sorey couldn’t have refused him, though the scent of his hair made him thirst for more, and his soft touch made him recall, disgusted with himself, how tender his flesh had been, how easily his teeth tore through it.    


Mikleo had remarked on the smell salt in the air long before they arrived.

When they stood there at the edge of the shore, trees and grass parting to reveal sand and rock, Mikleo stopped breathing.

“In and out,” Sorey said, to remind him how.

The ocean was endless and grey, the sound of it overwhelming their senses as the waves sighed against the shore.  In the distance, miles away, across the impossibly flat expanse of the ocean’s horizon, there was light.    


“The edge of your domain,” Mikleo whispered, eyes wide and fixed.  The way the sun hit the clouds in the distance poured pillars of light down into the ocean, and beyond that was cerulean blue and white.  “It’s beautiful.”

Sorey laughed at that.  “Too bad no matter where I stand, it’s always miles away.”

Mikleo turned his eyes from the waves for the first time since they’d arrived and looked at Sorey instead.  “Have you ever touched it?” 

“What, the ocean?”

Mikleo nodded, looking at him desperately.  “Is it safe to touch it?”

“Ridiculous.”  Sorey shook his head in dismay.  “Of course it is, you’re a water seraph.  Even if you got sucked under, you’d be all right.”

Mikleo ventured carefully towards the edge of the darker wet sand, smooth as glass except for bits of coral and shell glittering in it.  The white foam expanded its shape little by little with each wave.  “It seems alive.”

Sorey sighed.  “Take your shoes off first.”

Mikleo laid his shoes on the sand out of the water’s reach and returned to its edge.  The wave rolled in over his toes.  They flushed a delicate pink at the cold.  Sorey found himself thinking a rose of that color would be quite welcome in his garden.

“Do you want to swim?”  Sorey asked.  He thought of Mikleo stripped down to his smallclothes, or maybe nothing at all, splashing in the water, happy as a fish.  “We came all this way.”

Mikleo looked down at his feet as they sunk into the eroding sand and stepped back, only to step in again a moment later.  “I’m not sure this is for me,” he said, lifting one foot and looking at the underside as if he expected to find something stuck there.  “It’s salty.  And it’s--”

“A water seraph who dislikes the ocean.  You certainly are an odd one.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “And after I went to so much trouble to bring you here.  What’s the problem with it?”

“It has a melancholy feeling,” he said.  “So ancient and empty.  It’s like the sky turned upside down and churning constantly, forever.”

“Now who’s poetic?”

Mikleo sat at the water’s edge and let the waves lap his feet.  “I don’t want to swim. I just want to look at it longer.”

Sorey sat beside him, willing to stay here as long as he wanted.  Constantly, forever.


	10. Where the Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, before getting started just wanted to share that I made a new twitter account so that I can scream random thoughts at people while I am writing and reblogging cute sormik art. Handle is shippy_things if that sounds like fun to you.

Just shy of two months after their departure, Mikleo returned with Sorey back to the manor in the forest.  When offered the entire world, Mikleo had discovered that he only wanted this--a home with Sorey, where they could be hidden away and unbothered by humanity and seraphim kind alike.  

It didn’t have to be here, he realized as the castle came into view.  If humans continued to approach them, or if Lailah returned, they could go somewhere else.  He imagined them living in the desert, traveling from one oasis to the next and exploring sand-covered ruins in loose-fitting cotton robes and wide brimmed hats like the explorers in their books.  Sorey would hate wearing white he thought, and chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Sorey asked.

Mikleo shook his head.  “Nothing.”

They reached the gate, finally home.  Sorey went to check his roses first of all, as if he’d left a baby behind unattended all this while.

They could live on the ocean, Mikleo thought.  On a boat, constantly adrift.  Or they could find an island, far, far away.        

After checking that his precious flowers had not died, Sorey joined Mikleo at the door with a beaming grin.  “Home, sweet home.”

Mikleo snarked at that.  “You want to carry me across the threshold?”

“Maybe some other time.” Sorey slapped the door frame and went in ahead of him.  

“Right.”

Mikleo followed as Sorey lit the sconces with a wave of his hand.  One thing Mikleo didn’t miss was the constant darkness.  Sorey seemed happier for it, though.  “So how long will it take to cook dinner?” he said.

“Not even home an hour and you want me to make you a meal?” It wasn’t really a question, of course he did.  

“ _ Well _ ,” Sorey stretched it out as he rocked on his heels, fitting his boyish appearance for once.  “Can I help?  Will that make it easier?”

“You may, in fact.”  Mikleo smiled and thought of what task to put Sorey to.  “We have no meat on hand, but we can make a fitting meal with vegetables and the rice we brought back.  I’ll go and prepare the rice, meanwhile you can look for some vegetables.”

Sorey stuck his chest out.  “I’ll pick the heck out of them.”

He hadn’t said  _ hell, _ or  _ fuck  _ for that matter, Mikleo noted. 

They went about their separate tasks, Mikleo in the kitchen past the garden.  He rinsed the rice and let it soak while he started a fire in the stove, then got water boiling.  Just as he had the rice in the hot water, he heard Sorey step into the kitchen.  “Done picking already?” Mikleo asked without looking up, putting the lid on the pot.

Sorey’s arms wrapped around him from behind.  “Got you a present,” Sorey said, laughing.  In his hand there was a jar.

“W-what is this?”

“I know you said you didn’t need anything, but--”

Mikleo took the jar and opened it.  Inside there was a rich, creamy substance he had thought he may never taste again.  “It’s butter.”

“You wanted some for a while, right?”

“Sorey.”  Mikleo smiled and leaned back against Sorey’s chest.  “Thank you.”  

Sorey grinned happily and hugged him around his shoulders.  “You like it?  Good!”

“Although it’s not exactly a selfless gift, is it?  I mean, you’re going to eat the food, too.”

“Ha, well, you’re right about that.”  He released Mikleo and rustled in a bag he’d brought along.  “I picked this squash, do you think it’s okay?”

The squash he produced was the size and shape of a butternut, but it had grown a deep violet like an eggplant.  Before, Mikleo had been careful of eating anything whose shape or color had changed under the influence of Sorey’s domain, just in case malevolence could penetrate him via consumption.  That hardly seemed a priority now.  He took the squash.    


“It looks great,” he said.

Sorey smiled that happy, innocent smile again.  Mikleo wondered where that smile had been hiding, if it had been absent for two hundred years, or if he had ever smiled that way before.  “I’m sure whatever you make with it is going to be delicious.”

He turned to leave.  Mikleo cleared his throat.  “Ah, you don’t have to go,” he said, looking down at Sorey’s feet.  “I mean if you want some time to yourself after all that time spent together, I don’t mind.  But, just because we’re home,” he looked for the words.  “It doesn’t mean you have to slink off to some dark shadow and wait to be fed.”

Sorey considered it for a moment with a blank, unreadable expression.  During the trip he’d had Sorey’s full attention. Before the trip, Sorey had cared for him because he was healing.  Before that was the fight with Lailah.  But before that, Sorey had been avoiding him because of a stupid kiss that Mikleo had since regretted.  If things returned to normal, is that how it would be again?

“I don’t want to get in your way,” Sorey said in a soft tone that meant more than the words it carried.

“Come on, I can teach you to cook something edible.”

“I knew you were lying about that soup being good!”

Mikleo folded his arms over his chest and turned his nose up.  “I didn’t say it was  _ good _ , I just said I loved it, which is not a lie.”  He blushed and cast his ireful glare away.  “Because you made it for me.”

When he chanced a look back at Sorey, he found him smiling.  “You’re such a sweet, simple soul, you know that?”

  * \- -



  
  


Sorey stayed in the kitchen watching Mikleo cook.  Mikleo made a rich sauce from butter and wine, and cooked the vegetables in it.  Poured over the rice, it was a hearty meal, to which Sorey remarked that he didn’t even mind not having any meat with it.

Because the smell had been so mouthwatering, they ate at the rough wooden table in the kitchen instead of carrying it all the way back to the banquet hall.  Looking at Sorey across the half broken table as they ate out of old iron bowls and drank from tin mugs, Mikleo realized that this is how it always should have been--simple, like this--like it had been with the human families in Elysia.    


Sorey ate his rice soaked in butter sauce slowly, savoring every bite, but by the end of the meal he had consumed more than half the amount.

Just as he’d helped with cooking, he offered himself to help scrub up.  Mikleo handled most of the work but allowed Sorey to assist.  Sorey draped his cloak over a chair, removed his gloves, and rolled up his sleeves.  Then the Lord of Calamity set about washing dishes.    


Cloak and gloves discarded, Sorey walked with Mikleo back to the manor, laughing and arguing about the footnotes in a historical manuscript as if their trip had never ended.    


At Mikleo’s door, Sorey fell silent.

“Have you been feeling all right?” he asked, after the awkward pause.

Mikleo shrugged, trying to pass it off as nothing.  “No horns or pointed teeth, if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“The first time I witnessed a seraph fall, it happened instantly.” His voice was grave.  He clenched his fist at some memory and Mikleo wondered what horrors he’d seen.  Then Sorey raised his eyes to him, pained.   “With you, it’s almost. I could almost forget.”   


“You can forget it for now,” Mikleo said, and stepped closer to Sorey.  He positioned himself near enough that he could feel the heat of his body and smell his scent, reassuringly human, without touching him. 

He wanted to.  With a turn of his head he could kiss him.  He remembered that heartbeat of a moment between his advance and Sorey’s objection when Sorey had pressed against him and held him tighter, and he  _ wanted _ that.  But Sorey was afraid.  Sorey had reason to be afraid.

“You told me to stop because you’d want more.”  Mikleo saw Sorey’s eyes flit up as he dared to repeat the words from that night.  Beautiful green eyes rimmed with long black lashes searched him.

Mikleo swallowed hard.  “I would like it,” he said, voice hushed and broken.  “More.”

“I know.”  Sorey closed the gap between them.  “I know you would give yourself to me.”  He cupped his hand over the back of Mikleo’s head, and wrapped the other arm around his waist.  The embrace was gentle but close, and Mikleo sunk into Sorey’s negative space.    


“I’m afraid I’ll take too much from you.”  Sorey breathed the words into Mikleo’s shoulder.  “I won’t be able to stop and I’ll--”    


“You don’t have to take anything from me,” Mikleo said.  He thought of holding Sorey’s head to him, weaving his fingers through chestnut hair. But he knew it would not be received as encouragement.  If he did something like that, Sorey would pull away. 

Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him and clutched the tails of his cape to keep his hands from wandering.  “I won’t touch you,” he said.  Sorey lifted his head and looked into his eyes, asking and unsure.    


“Make me feel the way you want me to,” he said.  “ _ Give _ me something.”

Sorey looked over his body from head to foot and up again.  He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.  Mikleo found it increasingly difficult not to kiss him and say  _ just love me, you idiot _ .  But Sorey’s walls were crumbling little by little, a small point of light showing through.

He placed his hand under Mikleo’s chin, his touch so light and barely there that Mikleo had to fight himself not to squirm.  He lifted his head and closed his eyes as Sorey’s face drew within a breath of his.  He felt the warmth radiating from him for an infinitesimal moment before his lips pressed against his mouth, heavier than the touch, but still too timid.

Mikleo hummed a small, pleased sound into Sorey.  He wished for Sorey to open his mouth and kiss him with fervor, to press him against the wall.

Sorey pulled away after only kissing him with the barest touch of his lips--but before Mikleo could complain, he was kissing the corner of his mouth, his chin, and his cheek, over and over, light as he could.    


It wasn’t timid, it was purposeful.  Mikleo found himself suddenly awash in a heady, tingling sensation as Sorey pushed back his hair to kiss his brow and his temple.    


Sorey must have seen from the way his eyes clouded or how his lips trembled, because he grinned.  “The way I want you to feel,” he whispered, thumbing Mikleo’s chin and letting his breath tickle his ear just before he kissed it.   “Loved?  No, more than that.”  He kissed Mikleo’s jaw just under the ear, and then the small bit of neck peeking out from under the high collar.   _ “Adored.” _

Mikleo released a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.    


Sorey’s arm holding Mikleo around the waist tightened.  He kissed Mikleo’s neck through the fabric of his high-collared jacket.  Mikleo could feel the warmth of his mouth, but not the softness of his lips.  He let out a tortured little whimper.    


“Is this bothering you?”  Sorey tugged at the jacket’s top layer.    


_ Yes, tear it off me _ , Mikleo’s mind screamed, but he could put up a better fight than that.  He narrowed his eyes and the corners of his mouth curled up into a teasing smile.  “Why, would you like me to undress?”

Sorey leaned into his ear again.  “No, keep your hands right where they are.”

The brilliant white jacket that Sorey brought for him to wear that one day, after he’d healed from Lailah’s purifying attack, was made of two parts: a tunic underneath, and a collared bolero over the shoulders and arms, to which his twin capes were attached in the back.  The front of this piece was held closed in the front by a series of hook and eye fastenings hidden under the trim.

Removing it was easier than it was to put on.  All Sorey had to do was pinch the fastenings together and they unclasped.  He did this one by one, watching Mikleo’s face.    


The garment fell to the floor, the last clasp undone.  This left mikleo wearing the tunic underneath with its scooped neckline that revealed the soft lines of his neck and collarbone.

The confidence in all of this that Mikleo had tried so hard to cultivate left Sorey’s face.  He looked at Mikleo with his eyebrow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a line.    


The wound was between the base of the neck and the left shoulder, in such a spot as Mikleo couldn’t see it himself unless he looked in a mirror.  He’d have forgotten it was there if not for Sorey’s persistent scowling at it.

“It’s okay, I kind of like it now.” Mikleo raised his hand to brush his fingers over the snow white crescent moon scar, just barely lighter than his pale skin.  “When I look at it, I think it’s pretty.”

“Is that a  _ joke? _ ” Sorey spat the words harder than he seemed to have meant to.  His eyes flitted away in embarrassment at hearing his own tone.    


Mikleo took his fingers away from the mark.  Sorey clapped his own hand over it, hiding it.    


“You were perfect before, and I--  Even Lailah’s stupid burns healed, but this...”

Mikleo met his self-deprecating angst with a firm reprimand.  “Do you think I’m ugly because of it?”  

Sorey looked up from the mark on Mikleo’s neck blinking, a stunned look on his face.  “N-no I--  I didn’t-- I would  _ never _ \--”

Mikleo held his stern glare.  “If I tell you I like it, then what should you say?”

“I should say it compliments you.”

“Yes, you should.”

 

  * \- -



 

That look on Mikleo’s face when he was being smart about something was so appealing, the way his eyes glittered like a cat’s.  Sorey didn’t mind being toyed with.    


“Forgive me for insinuating you might be anything less than perfect,” he said.    


He placed his hand against the wall next to Mikleo’s head, letting his height loom over him.  Mikleo was as unphased as that first time, when he’d placed his hand around Mikleo’s tender neck and pressed him against the wall.  He did so again--not with choking force, but to feel Mikleo’s pulse throbbing just under his thumb.

He smoothed his other hand under the hem of Mikleo’s tunic.  His fingers found Mikleo’s waist and his ribs and stomach, toned but soft to the touch.  He could see Mikleo struggling to maintain his cocky expression, but his pulse fluttered like a bird’s wings under his thumb.

He lowered his head and kissed the white scar at the base of Mikleo’s neck.  It was smooth to the touch, but puckered ever slightly as he dragged his lips across it.    


Mikleo responded his touch and his kiss with a soft, shuddering whimper, curling into him. His need was palpable and yet he kept his hands to his sides.  Those haunting violet eyes looked up into Sorey’s, dark and blown.  His lips flushed as pink as his toes had been on the shore.  He wondered what other parts of Mikleo would take on that shade.    


The effect of fumbling blindly under Mikleo’s clothing was diminishing, so he unclasped the belts that held the top tight to his form and let it fall from his shoulders.

He bit his lip at the sight.  Mikleo’s milky white stomach and moderately defined chest were dusted with that same color.

He traced the curve of his pectoral and ran his thumb over one pink tip.  Mikleo whimpered something that sounded like Sorey’s name.  Sorey thought it could be clearer.   He knelt and captured the little rosebud between his lips.    


Mikleo’s hand slapped against the wall behind him.  “Sorey!”    


Sorey looked up to find Mikleo positively unraveled, flushed and sweating, tense from holding himself back.   One hand had found its way up to his hair, pulling a half fist of silver bangs out of his face.  The other scratched fingernails into the wall behind him.

“You’re really serious about this whole no touching thing, huh?”

Mikleo pouted and threw the hand that clutched a his hair back down to his side.  “I’ll touch you back if you want me to.”

“No, stay just like that.”  Although the idea of Mikleo pulling at his hair instead of his own was tempting.    


Sorey got to his knees and unbuttoned Mikleo’s pants.  Well fit, they peeled off him, pooling at his ankles.  Smallclothes underneath, a pair of light shorts.  Sorey laughed softly and pulled them down too, against Mikleo’s squeaks and whimpers that were not quite in protest to this.

He realized how much he liked this, and how idiotic of him it had been not to realize it before.  He could make Mikleo happy, he could make him feel loved.  He could pull apart his inhibitions until he was near tears with frustration, then give sweet release and leave him a quivering mess.    


Mikleo refused to look down as Sorey examined his cock.  Sorey thought, he’d never seen Mikleo embarrassed by his nakedness.  More often, it was Mikleo who sought to fluster and frustrate him.  It was a pleasant change in roles, he had to say.

And Mikleo’s cock was such a pleasing size and shape to look at.    


“Y-you’re not going to--” 

Sorey took the member into his mouth all at once, or at least as much as would fit.  Mikleo hissed and cried out at the sudden sensation.  It didn’t occur to Sorey until then that maybe he should have done it more slowly.    


He braced Mikleo’s hips, holding him steady as he slid his cock almost out of his mouth and then sucked it in again.  Mikleo sighed and melted against the wall.    


The fluid leaking into the back of his mouth was salty and bitter, but he liked the taste the way he liked Mikleo’s cooking and the smell of his sweat.    


Mikleo’s back arced.  His feet shifted and Sorey worried Mikleo might fall if he didn’t continue to hold him steady.  He worked up to a rhythm of push and pull, and Mikleo began to moan along with each movement.

“Sorey,” he said in a broken breath.  To think, he once hated the sound of his own name. “Oh,  _ Sorey. _ ”

His body convulsed as he peaked, and Sorey had to hold him tight so as not to lose his grip.    


His mouth filled up with delicious warmth and he swallowed.    


Free of his grip, Mikleo sank to the floor in front of him, eyes dark and lidded, his skin glowing with the sheen of sweat.  His hazy eyes focused on Sorey and he smiled, breathing heavy, slack all over.  Sorey would die for that smile.

His own eyelids felt heavy as he licked the remaining semen from his lips.  It tasted so good, he thought. Mikleo watched him oddly as he licked his fingers just as he might have earlier that night when he’d been so careful not to waste a drop of Mikleo’s butter sauce.    


Mikleo laughed and leaned forward to drape his arms over Sorey’s shoulders.  “Thank you,” he said, still smiling that amazing smile.  He kissed his cheek.  “I feel loved  _ and _ adored.”

Sorey opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t remember if he’d said anything before his vision became blurred and his limbs stopped obeying his brain.   He was just thinking about how beautiful Mikleo was, and the next--

“Sorey!"  
  
He fell into Mikleo’s lap, not the worst place to lose consciousness.  


	11. The Sun

_ What just happened?  _

He sat there on the floor outside his room, bare except for the pants crumpled around his shoes at his feet.  His cheeks still burned and his body was shaking in a way that would have been entirely pleasant had Sorey not dropped like a sack of potatoes into his lap without warning.

His face burned more as he realized Sorey had swallowed, quite enthusiastically, a substance from his body.  And the effect was  _ immediate _ .  Was it more potent than blood?  How long would Sorey sleep this time?    


He pushed Sorey off of his legs so that he could pull his pants back up.  Then he lifted Sorey, unconscious as a dull rock, over his shoulder.

Thankfully his room wasn’t far.  They’d gotten distracted by their moment of intimacy just before entering.  That had just happened.  It really had, but it was too much to think about with the weight of Sorey’s slack body over him.    


He rolled Sorey into the bed, his arms flopping awkwardly across his chest, legs twisted up.  Damn it, he was heavy.  Even after removing the boots from his feet, his tree trunk legs took an effort to lift and place into a comfortable position. 

As Sorey laid there looking peaceful and content in sleep, with his head tilted back and a light snore breathing out of him, Mikleo smiled and allowed himself to feel happy for what had happened.  He took a damp washcloth from beside the bed and wiped it over Sorey’s brow.

“What an innocent face you have,” he said aloud, sure that Sorey could not possibly hear him in the deep sleep he was in.  The corners of Sorey’s mouth curled up a bit as if he was having a nice dream.

He removed Sorey’s belts, then his shirt and pants, and gently wiped him clean of sweat and dirt from head to toe.  Then he tucked Sorey into the blankets and watched him sleep. 

 

* * *   
  


Sorey drifted out of sleep and into awareness again slowly, like a fog was clearing.  It could have been a very nice dream, he thought--the roses blooming on Mikleo’s skin and the color of his lips.  It  _ all _ could have been, starting with finding Mikleo sleeping in his garden, up until now.

But signs became apparent once he came to that it had all in fact happened.  He was in Mikleo’s bed, wearing a loose nightshirt. A quick sniff at his armpit let him know he was freshly cleaned.

Mikleo entered the room, carrying a basket of bedding and humming a tune.  His eyes lit up as he saw Sorey conscious and sitting up in bed.  “Ah, you’re awake!”  He set the basket down and hurried over to sit by Sorey’s side.

“What happened?”  The sight of Mikleo’s smiling face beside him was a nice thing to wake up to, but he was almost too groggy to enjoy it.

It didn’t last long, as Mikleo frowned and crossed his arms, huffy.  “You  _ consumed my flesh _ , you idiot.”

“Oh.”  So that part  hadn’t been a dream, either.  “How long was I out?”

“Two years.”

“W-what?”  Sorey jolted up, then caught Mikleo snickering.  “You…”

“It’s been about six hours, Sorey.’

“Hm.”  He leaned back against the pillows, arms outstretched, and looked up at Mikleo.  He was wearing a white cotton tunic and pants, not quite Sorey’s taste.  He’d rather dress Mikleo like an ancient prince in fine embroidery and gold.  But he couldn’t complain about how simple and pure Mikleo looked sitting next to him.  “That is too bad, because most of all, I wanted to hold you after.”

Mikleo stood, gracefully, feet together, then lifted himself into the bed.  He sat next to Sorey, knees in front of himself, perfectly poised.  “I’ll allow it.”

Sorey leaned into him, awkwardly balanced with his head half on his shoulder, trying to get an arm behind him and turn him around, but Mikleo wasn’t allowing himself to be spooned.   “You are not very good at this.”

“You shouldn’t have swallowed it!”  Mikleo stuttered and blushed even though he was frowning and his eyebrows were wrenched up.    


“I--well?” Sorey rubbed his finger in a circle on his annoyed seraph’s shoulder.  “I didn’t think it would hurt you, and it tasted  _ so good _ …”

Mikleo’s expression changed slightly, his mouth pulling, eyes softening.  “What if you were asleep for a long time?”  His voice hitched.   “What if I changed while you were asleep?”

“Come here.”  Mikleo was not difficult to move, he weighed nearly nothing.  Sorey lifted and pulled against minor protest until he was seated in his lap, where Sorey could cradle him perfectly, with Mikleo’s back against his chest.  He still had trouble believing that Mikleo could change.  He hadn’t thought about Mikleo’s worries.  “I won’t do it again.  I’ll be more careful next time.”    


“Next time?”  Mikleo repeated the words with a clever smile that made Sorey’s heart skip.  “So, you liked it?”

“Hm, I could be convinced to do it again.”

Mikleo relaxed and let himself sink into Sorey’s hold.  Once Sorey had Mikleo in his lap, he could wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold him inside the frame of his own body, protective and admittedly a bit possessive--Mikleo, who was his own, and who he chose to give himself to in return.  It was just the right position to smell his hair and kiss his neck.  “Mikleo, you’re so tiny.”

Mikleo huffed and pulled away, turning his nose up in indignation.  “I am not  _ tiny _ .  I am a normal average size!”

“Hey hey, don’t get pouty about it.  I didn’t say you were  _ delicate _ or anything.”  He laughed.  “I’ve seen you fight, I know you’re a lot tougher than you look.”

That didn’t do anything for the bitterness in Mikleo’s glare.    


“But you are  _ small _ , Mikleo, it’s an empirical fact.”  He cupped his hands around his waist to illustrate.  Sorey’s big hands nearly encircled Mikleo at the stomach.  “Look, I can almost touch my fingers together.”  He kissed the side of Mikleo’s head and said softly to him, “It’s not a bad thing, I really like it.”

“Oh, I thought you meant--”

“Huh?”  Sorey caught him blushing and squeezed him tighter so that he couldn’t get up and retreat.  “What did you think I was talking about?”

“I didn’t think you were talking about my build, that’s all.”

Sorey caught on and snorted a laugh.  “Oh,  _ that’s _ not small.”  He laughed.  “I could barely fit it in my mouth.”

“Stop Sorey, you’re disgusting.”

“You didn’t think so when I was doing it.”

Sorey hummed a laugh through the hand Mikleo pushed in his face, then mouthed against his palm.  Even Mikleo’s skin tasted good to him.  He hoped kissing and licking Mikleo wouldn’t make him sleepy, because he wasn’t sure he’d be willing to compromise on that.  Mikleo bristled at the sensation and tried to take his hand back, but Sorey caught his arm and kissed a trail up to his shoulder as he tried to wiggle away.    


They were both laughing.

Mikleo breathed deep.

“What’s wrong?”  Sorey pushed the bangs out of Mikleo’s face. 

“If I’m tainted, I thought--”  He started over.  “I thought that if I were tainted, at least I would not appeal to you that way, and that my flesh wouldn’t affect you, because I wouldn’t be pure anymore.”

“Maybe it means you’re not completely tainted yet.” Sorey wished that he could believe that.

“But…”  Mikleo looked away again.  Sorey had learned by now to read his moods.  He waited patiently for him to think through what he wanted to say.  “I want to be part of this place, part of you.  I want to share your burden.  If there’s two of us, let us both carry only half.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”  He rest his head on Mikleo’s shoulder, rocking him.  “I’m sorry, but  _ next time _ will have to be later.”  He yawned.    


“Need to rest some some more?”  Mikleo smiled.  He kicked his legs off the side of the bed to remove his pants, then crawled under the blanket wearing just the white cotton shirt.  No smallclothes underneath.  Sorey liked that.    


Sorey pulled the blanket over them.  He held Mikleo to him, pressing a kiss to his temple.  He smoothed his hand over Mikleo’s bare hip.  Their legs tangled together and their faces were close.  This is the part he had missed.  “I hope you weren’t too cold and lonely waiting for me while I was out.”

“On the contrary, I finally got some work done.”

“Hm.”  Sorey was so close to sleep again, he had to work keep his eyes open. Mikleo’s smile shining back at him was reward enough to resist the pull of slumber. “Then you deserve a nap.”    


Mikleo nuzzled into Sorey’s shoulder, making a contented sound.  “Next time,” he said softly. “Do you think I could touch you, next time?” 

Sorey wanted to say yes.  He wanted Mikleo to have anything he desired, and he wanted Mikleo’s touch, as well.  But Mikleo had tasted so good to him, he’d swallowed greedily without thinking.  “We can try,” he whispered, petting Mikleo’s hair.  “But we have to be careful.” 

He felt Mikleo smile against his neck as he fell into a deep sleep once again.

* * *

“Sorey!  Sorey, wake up!”

Sorey groaned and rubbed his eyes.  “Why is the lamp so bright? Put it out.”

“It’s not the lamp, genius.”  Mikleo was shaking him despite his efforts to curl into a protective ball of blankets.  “Come on, get up!”

Sorey sat up begrudgingly and looked in the direction Mikleo was waving his arms towards.  There was his window.  The sun was shining through it, glinting off the piece of broken glass.  The sun.

Sorey’s eyes opened wide and he crawled out of bed, caught for a moment in the blankets.  He joined Mikleo by the window.  A column of the sun’s light shot down from above the clouds at an angle, illuminating the west side of the manor.  “How...?”  He hadn’t seen sunlight in almost two hundred years.  He always thought he might have forgotten what it looked like.

“Sorey, you--” Mikleo turned to him, smiling bright as the sun.  “You must be getting better!”

Sorey blinked back at him for a moment.  “There’s no way.  Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Come on!”  Mikleo didn’t seem to hear him, or at least refused to take heed of his warning, and grabbed his hand.  He pulled him towards the door.  “Let’s get a better look!”

Mikleo dragged him out of his room and down the hall to the courtyard, stepping carefully onto the stones in places where thorny roses wouldn’t cover.  He was still barefoot, wearing only the long white shirt--which in the light of the sun, Sorey realized, was made of quite thin material that revealed the shape of him.

He wore pants and a night shirt, himself.  The air was cool, but not freezing.  A gentle breeze tickled his ears.    


It made Mikleo’s hair dance around his face.  The pale white strands sparkled silver in the sun.

The clouds overhead were broken and let walls of light cascade down from the sky here and there on the manor grounds and in the forest in the distance, like the sky was cracking.  Birds flew between them as if greeting the sun in its return.

“Beautiful,” Mikleo said breathlessly, his amethyst eyes fixed on the horizon.    


“It’s not quite the clear blue sky of Elysia,” Sorey said.  He put his arm around Mikleo’s shoulders and pulled him close, but even this failed to draw his attention from the sky.  “But, it’s something.”

Mikleo was silent and in awe for a few minutes more.  Then turned his head to find Sorey watching him, not the sky.  He smiled.  Then he pushed himself up on his toes and kissed Sorey.

Sorey lowered his arm to support Mikleo’s waist, and arched his neck to relieve the tension of standing on his tip-toes.  He laughed softly into the kiss at Mikleo’s excitement, and let him have him for a moment before pulling away.

“It’s cold,” he said, feeling Mikleo’s skin.  In the fresh air he was soft, but cold as mountain runoff in the spring.  “Come inside, let me build you a fire.”

He took Mikleo’s hand, and Mikleo allowed himself to be led back inside. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“I don’t want to sleep another second.”  Sorey flashed him a grin.  “Not when you’re wearing that thing. It’s even better than my dreams.”

Mikleo shook his head in dismay, but he was smiling.  “Dream of me often?” he asked.  “How flattering.”   
“Always.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m still dreaming.”


	12. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas episode: the gift of angst and suffering.

Mikleo insisted Sorey sleep in his bed from that night on.  With the sunlight breaking through the clouds, night and day were finally distinguished.  The days were warmer, but the nights were getting colder with the season.  They curled together under their many blankets.    


The thrum of Sorey’s power no longer haunted him, but Sorey was still impossibly warm.  Were all humans so warm?  Had he never noticed?

He woke feeling Sorey’s arms wrapped around his waist in the dark, and kisses to the nape of his neck through the collar of his night shirt.

“Sorey, I thought we were going to sleep.”

Sorey pulled the collar down with his fingers and kissed Mikleo’s skin just under his hairline.  “Am I keeping you up?”

“I was asleep already.”

“Oh, I woke you? I’m sorry.”

“But you’re still kissing my neck.”

“To show you how sorry I am.”

Mikleo murmured a pleased sound against his better judgement.  Sorey trailed with soft pecks of his lips down his spine.  Mikleo shivered. He suddenly didn’t mind being woken up.

He felt Sorey’s breath hitch against his back.

“What is it?”

Sorey pushed his shirt up and grabbed at him in the dark, clawing with his fingers over his shoulder blades desperately, feeling for something.    


“Ouch, Sorey!  What are you doing?”

Sorey didn’t answer, and turned for the light.   Mikleo had told him not to exercise his powers when he could help it.  He figured less use might mean less malevolence--but Sorey made the tableside lantern flare into light with a flick of his wrist.

Then he returned to Mikleo, pulling the shirt over his shoulders.    


“Mikleo,” Sorey said, finally.  He held Mikleo’s back against him, circled his arms around his chest, and held tight.    


Mikleo heard him suck in breath against his neck, chest heaving, a sob choking from him.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“I can’t stop it,” he said. He was not crying, but his face was contorted in frustration. 

Mikleo turned his head, and lifted his hand over his shoulder to touch Sorey’s hair.  “What are you so upset about? Everything has been getting better.  It gets brighter every day.  You haven’t lost control over yourself in months.”

“Not me,” he said, placing his own hand over Mikleo’s tender touch against his head.  “I can’t stop what’s happening to you.”

“What?”  Mikleo strained to reach an arm behind his back and feel over the skin where Sorey was fussing.  It had been sore earlier, but a hot bath had fixed it.  Now it felt rough and leathery.  Pressing the pads of his fingers into the flesh, he could make out solid shapes underneath, close to protruding from the skin.  He was changing. 

“It’s so slow,” he said.  “We have plenty of time.”

“You don’t know,” Sorey said.  “You don’t know how horrible it is.”

“If you don’t want to watch it, I will go away.”

“No.”  Sorey embraced him, pushing him onto his back against the bed and pinning him there.  “No, don’t leave, don’t ever leave.  I don’t want you to ever be alone the way I was before you came here.  I love you.”

Mikleo sighed.  Things had been too good to be true as of late.  Not just the sunlight, but everything--Sorey’s love, expressed in every way.  This change to his body was a disappointment, but it was not a shock.    


He threaded his fingers through Sorey’s hair and around the nape of his neck, to his chin.  He lifted his face to look at him.   “To think, when I first came here, you couldn’t make me leave fast enough.”

Sorey bit his lip, then let it go along with a deep sigh.  “If it would save you, I would still--”

Mikleo lifted his head to kiss Sorey and stop him from saying it.  Mikleo didn’t want to leave, even if this killed him.  Sorey was getting better.  He had somehow accomplished something even Lailah could not.  He was purifying the shepherd.  He was purifying Sorey.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure that doesn’t hurt?” Sorey asked.  Mikleo was soaking in his tub again.  Sorey urged him to lean forward and inspected his back.

In two spots,over the shoulder blades, the skin had parted and formed cuticles around the masses that grew through it, like a geode broken open to reveal its crystal innards.  The growths were hard as stone, pure white, and slightly translucent like quartz.  They glimmered a rainbow of color when under the right light.  Sorey would have considered this substance quite beautiful, were it not jutting out of his dearest one’s back. 

“No, it’s really isn’t painful,” Mikleo said.  Sorey wanted to think he was lying, that this was some kind of affliction, and not a part of him.    


“If a real shepherd lived, they could purify you.”

Mikleo leaned back into the tub and seemed in no discomfort at all, even when the crystal forms on his back pressed against the tub.  He lazily kicked the water to dissolve the soap in it.  “You don’t know if that’s the case.”

Mikleo was right, he didn’t.  But if he hadn’t failed as a shepherd himself, Mikleo wouldn’t have been brought here, he wouldn’t have been tainted, and wouldn’t have started turning slowly into some kind of monster.  That meant it was Sorey’s fault--if he could have just gotten a grip on himself instead of falling due to some ambiguous moral dilemma.  It all seemed so pointless now.    


  
* * *  


The changes came slowly, but they did come.    


The two shapes on his back had grown long and flexible, covered with small flecks that seemed more feather than scale. They laid flat under his cape when he went about his day, their weight an afterthought.  At night they formed around him, comforting.  Sorey scowled whenever he saw them, but Mikleo didn’t quite mind them. 

By the end of the year, Mikleo was having a problem with his feet, and it was not as welcome a change as the wings had been.  They were becoming long and scaled.  The toenails hardened and grew into points.  It was difficult to wear his shoes, until one day, while doing his chores, he got so frustrated that he tossed them into the garden.

He walked back to his room feeling much more comfortable bare-footed.  At least until he saw Sorey on the other end of the hall, staring at him, how his feet had changed. He looked like he could cry.

They met in the hall in front of Mikleo’s door without saying anything.  “It’s fine,” he said.  “I told you, it doesn’t hurt.”

“You aren’t worried?”

“I’m worried.”  Mikleo said, shaking his head.  “I don’t want to dwell on it, if there is no way to stop it.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried.”

Sorey hugged him tight to his chest, wings and all.  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said, kissing Mikleo’s head and petting his hair.  “The most frightening thing was thinking that you preferred it this way.”

“The wings are kind of pretty.”

“I’ll admit they are.”  The sound he made then was barely a laugh at all, but more than Mikleo had heard in weeks.  He liked the feel of it when he was pressed against his chest.  “But I miss your soft, beautiful toes.”

“I miss your smile.”

That earned him a kiss from Sorey.  Then Sorey grabbed his hand and was pulling him into the bedroom.  He lifted him at the waist and tossed him gently into the bed.  Mikleo landed against the soft cushion of his wings folding around him.  Relaxed, they glittered on top of the blankets all around him. 

“You asked me,” Sorey said, crawling into the bed on his hands and knees, careful not to crush any sparkling bit of his wing.  They were tougher than that, Mikleo knew--more likely to cut into Sorey’s soft flesh than they were to be broken.  “You asked me how I want you to feel.”

“I did.”    


“How do you want me to feel, Mikleo?”

Mikleo smirked.  “Like you’re inside me.”

“Oh, you’re going literal.  I like it.”

He kissed Mikleo’s forehead and then his temples once each.  “First I want to see every part of you.  Show me everything that’s different, whether it’s beautiful or not.  I want to know every part of you.”

 

* * *

 

The tail was really the last straw.

He tried wrapping it around his waist like a belt, but that got uncomfortable after just a few minutes.  He tried letting it fall down one of the legs of his pants, but it wouldn’t fit.  Finally, as humiliating as it was, he popped a hole in the back of his trousers and let it hang naturally.

It was pure white, shiny and pearlescent like his wings.  The weight of seemed to help balance them, to make it easier to walk and run and catch his prey.  He caught Sorey’s dinners with relative ease.    


He woke up one morning to find snow falling outside in the morning light.  Around his tail, Sorey had tied a ribbon and a bell.    


He tore the ridiculous thing off his tail, and ran outside to find Sorey admiring the snow.  “Very funny.”    


“You looked so cute,” Sorey said, turning.  He rubbed his arms for warmth and his breath puffed in the air.

“Are you cold?” Mikleo asked.  He could hardly believe it.  The days were getting brighter, but it was still winter, wet and cold.  Sorey had never seemed so affected by the weather before. 

“I gotta remember to wear a coat from now on,” he laughed.  “Now that we’re outside though, I wanted to see how your wings are growing.”      


Mikleo’s wings now had separated into distinct folding sections like a bird’s.  He couldn’t stretch them out to their full span indoors, unless they were in the dining room at least.  Outside, he was able to let them out as far as he could.

“That’s gotta be fourteen feet,” Sorey said, looking at him with wonder.

Mikleo blushed.  As grotesque as some of his changes seemed--his ugly feet, his tail--Sorey was nothing less than enamoured.    


“So, do you think you can fly with those things?”    


Mikleo closed his wings, preening the flexible scales with his hands for a second before folding his arms across his chest.  “I don’t have any reason to fly. I’m not a caged bird that needs freeing.”

“You don’t have to get all poetic about it,” Sorey said with a laugh.  Snow was still falling gently, getting trapped in his hair.  The cold flushed his face.  The decades seemed erased in his innocent smile.  “I just thought it would be cool, that’s all.  I mean, if you have wings, but you don’t use them to fly, then what’s the point?”

Mikleo could feel it nagging at him, the urge to move his wings in that particular motion.  He didn’t want to.  He didn’t want to enjoy what was happening to him.    


“Come on,” Sorey said, and smiled.  “Have a little fun.”

Mikleo unfolded his wings again.  Sorey looked hopeful.  Mikleo flapped and felt his feet lift off the ground.  He heard Sorey shouting in excitement.  He flapped again and again until he was several feet off the ground, and Sorey was staring up at him, his mouth open and eyes sparkling.

Then he was falling.  These wings weren’t working exactly the way he felt they should, and didn’t respond to his thoughts fast enough, the way an arm or a leg might.    


Sorey caught him in both arms.  “That was so cool!”  He spun Mikleo around a few times for no apparent reason other than his own excitement.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Mikleo huffed  “I might need to practice flying, but I can walk just fine.”

Sorey adjusted his arms but lifted him higher.  “You almost fell on my roses again.”

 

* * *

 

No matter how close to Mikleo he cuddled under the blanket, he could never get warm enough in the winter chill  He hadn’t felt this cold since long ago, and it was one part of his humanity he didn’t miss.

He got out of bed to turn the log in the fireplace and stir the embers.  Once the flame was going again, he put another log on and turned back to the bed.

Mikleo’s tail was flicking out of the edge of the blanket in a curly S-shape.  Sorey chuckled and got back under the blankets with him.   He curled up against Mikleo with their foreheads touching. 

He had never felt such happiness and pain at once.  The thought of how beautiful Mikleo was, and the thought that he could be taken away.  In a matter of months, Mikleo had gone through so many changes.  How long until he was no longer himself?  Months more, or a year at most?    


That was when he first heard the sound, a low thrum that resonated with him like a bow string plucked in his heart.  The hum of it was deeply unsettling and hypnotic at once.  He found himself lulled into sleep.

He awoke not long after.  It was just at dawn, the sun’s light peeking through the clouds.    


He could still feel that strange vibrating.

“Mikleo, wake up.”  He gripped Mikleo’s shoulder under the blanket and shook him.  “Something’s wrong--”

Mikleo lifted his head with a sleepy grumble and rubbed his eyes.  His pale white lashes parted, revealing the same brilliant amethyst as always, but they were now set against a dark black sclera.  No white in his eyes, just violet and midnight black.

“Sorey,” Mikleo said.  He saw the look on Sorey’s face and his eyes, dark as they were, expressed concern.  “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Sorey held Mikleo in his arms.  He held him tight, as if that would keep him from changing.  “It’s fine,” he said, cupping the back of his head.  “Go back to sleep for now.  It’s not morning quite yet.”


	13. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I said on Pole Star, please forgive he weird formatting and typos lately, my laptop died so I'm working from a tablet and thumb typing is pretty frustrating.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

 

Sorey said it with his fists clenched.  

 

That morning he had kissed Mikleo on the head through his bangs like he always did, but seemed hesitant to pull away, as if it might be the last time.  All he had said was “you should look in a mirror.”  Then he had disappeared into the manor.  

 

Mikleo had looked, and seen the freakish black-rimmed eyes looking back at him.  This made Sorey’s statement upon returning perfectly clear.

 

“I can’t take this anymore.”

 

He was wearing a blue shirt over a thick winter fleece, and carried a heavy coat tucked under his arm.   

 

Mikleo closed his eyes and tried not to look in his direction.  He was too inhuman now, too monstrous.  “I understand.”

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

Mikleo was sitting at the edge of the bed.  Sorey knelt in front of him, taking his hand.  Mikleo’s fingernails had grown white and hard as stone, just like the talons on his feet.  Sorey kissed the back of his hand and then turned it over and kissed his palm.  

 

Mikleo thought about what he wanted to say.  He could do it without tears if he tried.  “You’re cured now, you can rejoin the human race.”

 

“That’s not why I’m going,” Sorey said.  He stood and took Mikleo’s face in his hands, lifting it up.  “Come on, open your eyes”

 

Mikleo did.  Sorey looked back at him as fondly as ever.  

 

“I can’t take sitting here waiting for you to lose everything that makes you my Mikleo,” he said, running his fingers lovingly through Mikleo’s hair.  “My little poltergeist, my sweet flower.”

 

“Stop saying ridiculous things,” Mikleo sighed.  Sorey was trying to tease him into smiling, he knew that, but it would only make him cry if he kept on.  “What do you think you can do?”

 

“If there’s one person who knows anything about this…”

 

“Sorey, you’re not powerful enough to fight her again.  She could kill you.”

 

“Eh.”  Sorey shrugged.   “She won’t want to.  I mean, probably not.  I think.”

 

“Sorey…”  Mikleo pulled away from his touch and wrapped his arms around himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and curled into a ball.  “I don’t think I’ll survive if you go.  Without you by my side, I’m sure I won’t last long.”

 

Sorey kissed the top of his head.  “Three days,” he said.  “Lailah left in the direction of Ladylake, not Elysia.  From here, it will take me three days to get there and back.   If I return with good news, this will all be over soon.  If not…”

 

Mikleo looked up.  This time Sorey kissed him gently on the lips.

 

“If not, then I’ll stay here with you until the end, and after--I’ll never leave your side.”  He laughed softly.  “Even if you try to eat me.”

 

Mikleo sucked in a breath and something in him snapped.  He threw his arms around Sorey and squeezed him tighter than he ever had.  His eyes burned with tears and his voice didn’t come when summoned.  He had to clear his throat and try again.  “I’m scared,” he said.  “I wasn’t afraid to lose my life before, but this isn’t just my life.  It’s what I’ll become.  I thought I could do it without fear, but I’m afraid.  I’m afraid of what will happen when you are gone, of changing before you get back.  What if I can’t say goodbye?”

 

“Three days,” Sorey promised.  “You’ve been this way for months.  You can wait for me three days, can’t you?”  

 

Mikleo relaxed and allowed Sorey to ease him back into the bed.  

 

Sorey smiled.  “You might even get some work done around here without me distracting you left and right.”

 

* - -

 

The air was cold and burned his lungs.  He had almost forgotten how to be human meant a constant struggle against the world's violent nature.  The light was fading, too.  

 

By sunset he had emerged from the edge of his forested domain on a bluff overlooking the plains that stretched to Ladylake.  He could see the city in the distance, but it would still take at least a day of travel to get there.  At this rate he wouldn’t meet his deadline.  He had to find Lailah.

 

As the sky went dark and the ground began to freeze under his feet, Sorey reached inside himself to kindle a small, warm light that glowed between his hands.

 

Moving would keep him awake and focused, so he pressed on without sleep.  He didn’t dare to run despite the urgency of his mission, and risk losing the stamina he would need to reach Ladylake before another sunset.

 

  - - - 

 

 

The ceremony in Ladylake came and passed.  No potentials emerged from the flock, only pretenders looking for fame.  Every year, the shepherd legend faded farther into obscurity.  The sword-pulling ceremony became a spectacle due only to the fact that even the strongest man could not pull it out, and that famous challenge had overshadowed its true purpose.   

 

Lailah knelt at the foot of her altar which held her vessel sword.  She needed ashepherd desperately--but each man who approached the sword had her wishing to herself, *please not him.*

 

The only visitor to the shrine today was not a worshipper.  Zaveid was here on her request, the only backup plan she knew.  He placed a heavy metal object on the altar next to her sword.

 

"Are you sure you want to use this?"

 

Lailah stood, brushed by him, and lifted it by its grip.  She held the ancient weapon in her hands, the weight of its barrel almost too much.  

 

Zaveid sighed.  "You don't have to execute the boy yourself.  I could pay him a visit.  I've killed enough already, it's not going to tear my soul apart."

 

In the absence of a shepherd, Zaveid took it upon himself to end corrupted seraphim before they lost their minds.  It was lonely, thankless work.  

 

"It has to be me," she said.  "Thank you for the loan.  I'll return it."

 

"If that's what you want."

 

Zaveid left the shrine through the front arch, leaving it half open, the afternoon's light shining through.

 

She stood facing her altar, back to the sun.  Both hands on the weapon Siegfried.  Time passed.  The block of light shifted across the floor as the sun outside lowered closer to the horizon.

 

Could she do it?

 

She raised the gun and spun on her heel, aiming it at the door behind her.  Finger on the trigger, her eyes widened at the shadow in her  sights.

 

"Watch where you point that thing," Sorey said.  "Looks dangerous."

 

Siegfried clattered to the tile floor, echoing throughout the shrine.

 

“How can you be here?”  She covered her face with her hands, closed her eyes, then opened them and looked again.  He was still there, smiling. “My mind must be playing tricks on me, cruel ones at that.”

 

Sorey sighed and began to walk down the aile toward her.  “I guess disbelief is a better reaction than trying to kill me.”

 

“I never wanted to kill you, Sorey, I--”  Laila felt tears at the corners of her eyes.  

 

“Here.”  He reached altar and took her hand.  His was solid and warm, definitely real.  He raised it and placed the palm against his chest. “Use your fire, let’s see what happens.”

 

Lailah looked at him, and then down at her hand.  She conjured a flame, a timid one, just at the tips of her fingers.  Sorey didn’t flinch.  Sorey didn’t burn.  

 

She threw her arms around him and began to cry.  “It’s a miracle, it’s a miracle,” she sobbed.  “How could this be real?”

 

Sorey let her weep wordlessly for a moment.  Finally, he smoothed his hand down her back, over her long train of hair.  “I was hoping that you could tell me.”

 

She pulled away and looked into his eyes.  There was no anger there, no bitterness.  She had imagined how she could apologize every day for decades, but nothing came to her.  Without his judgement, she was left empty, undeservedly blessed. Guilty.

 

She tried to smile.  “What happened to Mikleo?”

 

“Mikleo is changing,” Sorey said.  His brow furrowed and he clenched his jaw for a moment before continuing to explain.  “But it’s not in sudden phases like the seraphim hellions I’ve seen before.  He’s been transforming gradually for months, first small characteristics and now bigger ones.”

 

“You’re no longer malevolent, but Mikleo is getting worse?”

 

“That’s how it seems.”

 

Lailah turned and knelt once again at the altar.  She clasped her hands together both to pray her gratitude, as well as to meditate on the truth of this situation.  It was easier too, than looking at him.

 

“Sorey, it is possible for a creature to rid themselves of malevolence if their attitude shifts before it is too late.  For example, both the criminal and the victim of a crime can often recover from malevolence once justice is served.  But for someone as corrupted as you have been to be purified without a shepherd's help--”

 

“I know.  It’s impossible.”

 

Lailah turned to watch Sorey pacing, and his words from the night they fought came back to her, how Mikleo was the only thing he loved.  She wondered if Sorey remembered saying that, or if he’d been too entranced at that time.  In either case, from the manner he hung his head and gripped his fists in idle worry, it appeared that the feeling had been more than malevolence-fueled possessiveness.  He really cared for Mikleo, he was dying not to run back to him right this second.

 

“You know that seraphim can resist malevolence, even strong malevolence, if they believe what is in their heart to be true.”

 

Sorey stopped and looked up at the ceiling.  “Do you think Mikleo’s heart wavered?” 

 

Lailah shook her head.  “He was as determined as I was then.”

 

“Back then.”

 

She turned back to the altar.  “I begged Mikleo not to go.”

 

“But you couldn’t go in his place, you’re the only one who can grant a shepherd the power of purification.  And you couldn’t sacrifice someone else just to save your favorite darling Mikleo.  He played you quite expertly, it’s admirable.”

 

“Played me?”

 

“He fixed the lottery. 

 

“He-- what?”  She could feel her cheeks burning at that.

 

“You’ve got to keep a better eye on him, he’s too clever.”

 

Lailah had to hold back tears at the thought of how happy and brimming with curiosity Mikleo once was.  “So he’s been determined from the beginning.  Knowing that, I don’t think his heart would waver.”

 

“No, never.”

 

“So what, then?”  Lailah thought aloud as she stood and began to pace around the sanctuary floor opposite Sorey.  “Your improvement started just as his condition worsened?”

 

“Roughly, yes.”

 

“But a seraph simply can’t share the shepherd’s burden.  No matter how hard we may wish it, we can’t relieve a shepherd of the malevolence they are meant to purify.”

 

“I know that, too.”

 

“Did he say anything about wanting you to improve?”

 

Sorey touched a knuckle to his lips in thought.  “Yeah.”  He looked up, trying to recall the exact words.  “He said that if if it would save me, he’d let me eat him.”

 

“Eat him?”

 

“Well…”  He rubbed his head, thinking harder.  “What did he say? I was so out of it back then.  I’d just killed a man.”

 

The frank attitude in which he delivered the statement made her cringe.  It was a stark reminder that this was still the Sorey she was dealing with, not the bubbling youth from Elysia she had once known, even after the malevolence was gone.

 

“He said, if it would save me, he’d give me all of himself.”

 

“That’s it.  He must have made an oath, perhaps without even realizing it.  He wished it with all of his heart, and he set the terms--all of himself in return for your purity returned to you.  He believed it until it became actuality.”

 

“I never asked for that.”

 

“I know, Sorey.”  She shook her head.  “Mikleo seems to have ‘played’ us both in that regard.”  

 

“What can we do?”

 

Lailah turned to him, as serious as the day they met, when she warned him of the burden of a shepherd.  “It takes a powerful oath to bend the laws that govern our world.  Mikleo has taken a vow so deep that to reverse the effect would most surely kill him.”

 

“So what can I do?” His voice was stressed, more impatient with each breatg.

 

She bent to lift Siegfried from the floor.  "In the hando of a seraph, this weapon offers nothing but death.  But if it is wielded by a shepherd, it has the power to purify."

 

"A shepherd."

 

“Take hold of my sword, and use my power once again, Sorey.  If you can purify the malevolence before Mikleo becomes a dragon, then there is a chanve he’ll return to himself without breaking his oath.”

 

Sorey sighed.  “I had a feeling you were going to say something like that.  Do you really think I’m still shepherd material, after everything?”

 

“No matter by what miracle, your heart is free of malevolence now.  Won’t you be the shepherd again?  I’ve been searching for years for a shepherd with no success.  This world still needs you. Mikleo, most of all.”

 

He took a few steps until he was behind the altar, and turned to face the empty sanctuary. He closed his hand around the hilt of the gilded sword, as if to remind himself of how it felt to hold it.  “I may be free of the malevolence, but what about you, Lailah?”

 

Lailah looked up to find his green eyes glaring down at her.

 

“Malevolence is bred in contradiction,” he said.  “You tried to convince me that I had done no wrong, you told me that Heldalf’s death was justified because it saved the lives of so many others.  But when I asked you…”  

 

His hand slipped from the sword and fell to his side.  “When I asked you to kill me, you refused.”

 

The edge of the sun's light crept up the altar, threatening to illuminate sorey's face, but not yet there.  Lailah buried her face in her hands.  She knelt again.  “I know.  I couldn’t.  I couldn’t do it.”

 

“You told me it was too much, because you loved me so. As a result, I’ve killed humans, and humans have been killed in my name.”  He left the altar and knelt in front of Lailah, taking her hands away from her face.  “So you must understand that even love is a malevolent force.”

 

“By the time I had gathered the strength, the will to do it, you were already too powerful for one seraph to destroy.”

 

“Can you do it now?"  He wrapped her hands around the weapon's grip and raised it level with his heart. "If I fall again, will you do it?"

 

Lailah looked up at him with tears in her eyes and bit her lip.

 

 

“If I ask you to kill me again, next time, could you do it?”

 

 

 “Yes."

 

She stood and looked directly into his eyes.  “I will do what is needed of me.”

 

“Then let’s go.  Serve me again, Lailah.”

 

He stood and walked back to the altar.  He took the sword once again.  

 

Lailah felt the warm embrace she’d not felt in over a century, as her being wrapped around Sorey like a swaddling cloth.  She relaxed and let him wield her power, let him stretch and flex his arms.  He raised the sword and gave it a testing swipe through the air.

 

* **

 

They flew through the sky, jumping long strides at a time across ledges and between rooftops, as people in Ladylake gasped and bumped into one another.  He knew they must only see a boy, not a two-hundred year old, fallen, and only recently purified shepherd, garbed in the power of the essence of fire itself.

 

He had promised Mikleo three days, and the second was quickly running out of daylight.  He couldn’t stand around to get used to his powers again, he had to run as fast as he could back to Mikleo, as long as his power held out.  

 

Lailah's power emboldened him with new strength, but his fatigue was still there around the edges like a shadow, never letting go.

 

He could return to Ladylake with Mikleo once he’d purified him, and they could take a long walk through the sunny streets, and marvel at the advancements in technology humans had achieved.  But for now, he had to focus on the horizon.

 

A thick grey cloud rolled out from the direction of his domain.  Except he knew then that he no longer had a domain.  This one was Mikleo’s.

 

The sky grew dark even before the day was expired, as the sky split and poured rain.  He crossed the bridge over choppy waters.  At the other end of it, a group of merchants struggled to save their horses from a mudslide.  Sorey swiped his sword through the wall it as is crashed down on them, pushing it back.  The humans fled across the bridge to the safety of Ladylake.  Sorey ran headfirst into the storm.

 

“Sorey, you must release the armatus and regain your strength.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve barely--”  

 

As his feet touched ground and he took a breath, he felt his chest burn and legs crumpled under him.  He dropped the armatus and allowed Lailah back into her normal form.  

 

“You’re not a hellionized shepherd anymore,” she said.  “You’re human again, it will take some getting used to,.”

 

Sorey pushed himself up by his knees, groaning from exertion.  He hadn’t slept since he left the manor almost forty-eight hours before.  “I should have known,” he said, pressing onward on his own two feet. Laila frowned at his insistence, but followed along behind him.  “When food gained back its flavor, when sleep felt good, when I started wanting warmth and touch again-- I should have realized what he was doing to me.”

 

“Perhaps you were distracted,” Lailah said.  “Sometimes I think that’s why you were so hard on yourself as a shepherd. No one ever distracted you from your duty the way a young man ought to be distracted from from time to time.”

 

Sorey groaned as he remembered Lailah trying to help him make more human friends, but he had never wanted any of them to become involved with the shepherd’s journey.  “If I pass out, can you just carry me?”

 

“I will.”

 

Sorey stumbled over a stone and dropped to his knees again.  He struggled to stand.  The expanse of grassy hills, stone, and streams ahead of him blurred, and even without that, it was difficult to see ahead as the sun faded.

 

 

 

* **

 

 

Sorey collapsed and nodded off.  Lailah kept her promise to carry him, although it burdened her and made progress slow.

 

The morning of the third day, they encountered gusts of wind strong enough to blow Lailah down, and she sought refuge inside him.  The warmth of her gave him a slight bit of comfort.  By noon the sky was as dark as it had been in the night.

 

Sorey’s feet sank into mud and he pushed as hard as he could to carry on.  By midday he reached an outcropping of rock that gave shelter against the wind and rain.  There, looked back on the path behind him and was dismayed to see the spires of Ladylake’s castle still distinctly visible in the distance.  

 

They had come a long way, but not far enough.  The edge of the woods surrounding the manor was still a few miles away, and after that it was another few hours through the dense forest.  

 

We won’t make it, Sorey thought.  Not in time.  

 

He donned the armatus once more and dashed across the soft earth.  


	14. Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my laptop fixed! I'll go back and edit the previous chapter eventually. I know I made a bunch of typos. Anyway. Enjoy this chapter.

The storm howled.  Mikleo curled under the blankets to muffle the sound.  No use.  It was inside of him, the banshee wail of the wind.  Rain beat down on the manor from every direction, weathering the dilapidated structures.

It was freezing cold, and the blankets offered him no warmth.  His body emitted none of its own heat any longer.  Without Sorey to curl into, the bed was as cold as a grave.

Water seeped in through the cracks in the wall and the hole in the window.  The rose-studded vinery that once decorated the crack in the window wilted and died under the force of the rain.  The floorboards began to crack and give way.  Soon the bed  collapsed on one side and he burrowed into the remains, desperately trying to block it all out.

The flowers in the garden had washed away, and nothing of beauty remained on the grounds, only icy mud and crumbling stone.   


He was relieved through all the screaming and writhing in pain that Sorey wouldn't witness this, as his limbs morphed under him, ripping his clothes to shreds.  His wings outstretched now pushed against the walls.  He was relieved because he’d asked for this after all, and Sorey was safe.

He cried because he knew then that the chance to say goodbye had passed.

 

***

 

Sorey dropped the armatus as soon as he could see the shape of the east wing through the blast of rain.  It had collapsed, most of the roof thrown elsewhere or blown away by the strong winds and torrential downpour.  A thick layer of ice coated the grounds, reflecting the light of the moon.  It illuminated the scene in an unearthly blue hue, glittering every color, frozen in time.

Lailah swayed when he released her, placing her hand against a stone to steady herself.  He ran ahead, climbing over the crumbled walls, to dig into the remains of Mikleo’s room with all the strength he could muster.  He shouted through the frigid air and the icy rain until his lungs burned.

The third sunset had passed, and it was late into the night.  He'd broken his promise by mere hours, but they could still save him if he could just hold out a bit longer.  Mikleo was strong enough, Sorey believed--

He found nothing of Mikleo except a scrap of white cloth.

"Sorey?"  Lailah approached, taking shelter from the rain behind one of the remaining walls.   


Before he could answer, what was left of the room was cast in complete shadow, the shape of a wing crisp black against the ice.

It was enormous, its wingspan blotted out the sky above them.  It perched in the ruins, the entirety of manor's expanse no more than its nest, glaring down at Sorey with amethyst eyes set in black sclera.  Its body was pure white as bone, horns and talons glittering in the moonlight like snow.   


“No,” Sorey mouthed.  “No, no, no, you can’t…”

Its wings spread and flapped them, pushing everything at its feet, including Sorey, into the air.

Lailah initiated the armatus and joined with Sorey.  He hadn’t realized he was falling until he heard her voice calling for him to snap out of it.

“Okay,” Sorey said.  His heels touched the ground and he took over, shielding his body from debris with his arms.   


The dragon roared, displaying its rows of teeth--each nearly as long as Sorey was tall.  The sound shook the ground.  “I’ll purify him,” he said, calling forth the flaming sword.  “Ready, Lailah, let’s go!”

He sprang into the sky with his sword raised and swung in a wide arc.  The purifying flame burned at the malevolence that enveloped the dragon, but the sword’s blade failed to connect as he was repelled by the monster’s arm, big as a stone column.  It struck him sidelong and sent him flying, crashing into one of the smaller buildings lying outside the manor in a streak of red and gold light.

Sorey righted himself and cringed, recognizing pots and pans strewn around him.  He’d landed in the crushed remains of the kitchen--the place he and Mikleo shared so many fond memories.  Mikleo’s laugh, his snarky expression, the way he smiled when he was cooking...

“You have to let your feelings help you,” Lailah reminded him.  The armatus held strong though they were both exhausted.  “Let them guide your hand, but don’t lose yourself in them.”

He stood and adjusted his grip on the sword, lifting his head to scope out the dragon’s position.  It had taken on a defensive position with its head lowered and its back legs ready to jump.  “Maybe I should have practiced a bit first,” he said, forcing out a hoarse and bitter laugh.  “Not quite like riding a horse, is it?” 

“Do you remember how it felt to purify?”

“Yes.”  Sorey closed his eyes.  He had to stop thinking about this thing as a dragon.  This was Mikleo.  He had to strike into it and touch what remained of Mikleo’s being with his heart.  He had to cut through the darkness and bring Mikleo back.

His eyes opened with new burning determination.  He pushed himself up into a jump and then again off a fallen beam, gaining more height.   


The dragon’s glare sharpened and it growled, perceiving this small, bright being as a threat now.  Icy breath poured from its mouth, misting in the air.  The low sound shook the trees.

“Mikleo!” Sorey shouted, voice breaking through the wind, wielding the sword, letting the force of the spin carry him.  The dragon’s growl deepened into an angry roar as he brought the sword down over its snout.   


The veil of malevolence surrounding it heaved as Sorey struck.  Sorey pushed, digging as hard as he could, until the blade touched the dragon’s flesh and it roared and threw itself against the ground to shake him off.   


He had to keep pressing.  He dug in with the sword, both his and Lailah’s very being straining to keep this up.  He could feel it, a tiny light--not enough, but something.  Like Mikleo was sleeping at the bottom of a frozen ocean, and all that Sorey could see was the smallest bubble of his breath breaking the surface.

“I can feel him!” Sorey said.  “Lailah, just a bit more!”

Lailah’s voice was frantic.  “I’m sorry, we can’t--”

Before she could get the warning out, Sorey’s control over the armatus broke in a clap of explosive fire.  The dragon put all of its enormous force into its strike and hit him with a whip of its tail.

Sorey could not hold on to Lailah’s power and the two separated as they were propelled through the air and deep into the forest surrounding the manor.  The frozen branches of trees shredded Sorey’s clothing and tore into his skin.  He hit the ground so hard that he was sure his body bounced off the dirt before he finally fell still.

He sat up groaning.  Without Lailah’s power, that definitely would have killed him.

But still, it could have snapped its jaws and devoured him.  The moment when he lost control of the blade left him open, he could have killed him then and there.  Could have eaten him.   


He wanted to believe it was Mikleo in there somewhere, pushing him away like that.

He looked up and made out the shape of the dragon lurching in the distance through the spindly winter trees, sniffing around its feet for them.  He and Lailah had been thrown so far, even the dragon couldn’t see where they were.

Lailah laid beside him.  She sat up, equally fazed as he was.  Once recovered, she stood and clasped her arms against her chest.  “You need to use it,” she said.  “Siegfried.”

Sorey pulled the weapon from the makeshift harness he had around his back.  He still wasn’t sure how to wield it.  The rush back home hadn’t given him enough time to prepare.  “Do you have ammunition for it?”

The dragon wailed into the sky, unable to locate its prey.  Sorey thought it sounded more anguished than frustrated.  He wanted to believe that.

Lailah clutched her hands together.  “I’ll serve as the ammunition.”

“What?”  Sorey rubbed his head.  It still ached from the fall, and this wasn’t helping.  “What does that even mean?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to keep something from you again.”  She sighed.  “But I hoped poor Mikleo would still be in the transition phase.  If he were a drake, we could have--”

“Could have won’t make a difference right now, Lailah.  Mikleo is--”  He had trouble saying it, himself.  “He has become a dragon, and we have to help him.”

“The usual bursts of energy emitted by this weapon are enough to kill a seraph before they become a dragon.  It has been used to execute a great many who were beyond saving.  But in the hands of a shepherd, with enough spiritual power--even a dragon can be purified.”

“Enough spiritual power.”  He didn’t need that explained to him.  “You intend to fire your own spirit at him?”

Lailah nodded.

Sorey dropped the gun.  “No.  You can’t go, Lailah.  You’re the only one who can serve the shepherd. I can’t kill anyone else, if I saved Mikleo that way he’d--”

He didn’t notice the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.  Then he felt Lailah’s arms around him.  She was tall.  Her embrace always made him feel like a kid again, even if he was two hundred years old.

“If you purify Mikleo, I’ll be all right,” she said, and straightened Sorey’s hair.  “Don’t cry.  Believe in us.  Mikleo wants to be saved.  You can feel it, can’t you?”

Sorey banished his tears.  “Right,” he said, kneeling to pick up Seigfried.  “I’ll do it.  I will do it.  I can’t fail because I have you, and Mikleo.”

He took a deep breath and called for Lailah’s true name.  Her warmth wrapped around him, and he was prepared.  He held the grip of Siegfried.

 


	15. All Things End

Fire whipped across the frozen ruins of the manor as Sorey, clad in Lailah’s power, darted behind the beast before it could spot its prey emerging from the dense forests.  The maneuver bought him little time, as the dragon sensed his presence and turned, cutting down a swath of trees behind it with the force of its tail.

He had to strike it before it poised to defend itself.

“You must cut through the aura of malevolence,” Lailah instructed, as he moved to do just that.  “Sense what remains of Mikleo inside this dragon with your heart, and fire all of my power into that point.”

“I will.”   


He wasn’t fast enough.   


Despite its lumbering mass, the dragon was as agile a creature as the seraph it was born from.  Its movements were painfully familiar, the way it danced on its feet.  It skated over the ice and spun its massive body around on nimble feet to face Sorey in a matter of seconds, swiping its arm across the ground.  In the wake of this motion, debris from the already destroyed manor flew into the sky, but Sorey wouldn’t be caught by that attack a second time.  He leapt over the incoming dragon’s arm, dodging the blow.

With Lailah’s sword in one hand and Seigfried in the other, he pressed the advantage.  He pushed himself off the ground and into the air, deflecting the cloud of crumbling and jagged remains away from himself with Lailah’s aura, and raised the sword.

Like before, he brought it down on the dragon’s nose and pushed.  The malevolent aura pushed back against him, attempting to snuff his flame with icy tendrils that twisted and grabbed at his arms and legs, but he wouldn’t falter this time.  He had to break through and find Mikleo.

The dragon roared in anger, freezing the land and filling the sky with sparkling mist. Sorey screamed back, pushing the flaming blade with everything he had in him until Lailah’s power was burning white.  He screamed for Mikleo.   _ “I know you’re in there!  Come back, come back to me!” _

He had to remember the Mikleo he loved, the one with mischievous cat’s eyes and a frustrating smirk.  The Mikleo who got so annoyed with his dramatic posturing, who argued with him about the meaning behind ancient murals.  The Mikleo whose skin turned so pink when he touched him, who had become so unguarded for him in those sweet moments.

The memories brought tears to his eyes, but it was working.  Mikleo was giving way to him.  The mist parted, a funnel of light opened up, enveloping them.

The malevolence parted around his blade and the dragon whined in pain.  Sorey ignored it, trying not to think if Mikleo could feel the burning blade in his flesh.  He concentrated, pushing harder, searching…

Mikleo was there, small but glittering white, like a pearl at the bottom of a deep black ocean.  He was there, in all of his sweetness and agony.

Lailah shouted, “Now, Sorey!”

Sorey lifted the gun and focused on that tiny glimmer.   


He’d burn the whole ocean, if that was what it took.   


He fired.

Lailah’s power left him violently.  The weapon ripped the very warmth of Lailah’s power away from his body, and blasted her through its barrel.  The dragon’s final screams deafened Sorey’s ears as he fell to the ground, nothing more now than a battered human being.  

He didn’t feel himself hit the ground, so pushed beyond his limits and so freezing cold that even pain had left him.  He saw, vaguely, through the frozen mist and cloud of debris, Lailah’s light streaking across the sky like the tail of a meteor.   


The rain stopped.  The clouds dissipated.  The dragon swayed and fell to the ground, blowing a gust of frigid air in its wake.  Its scales lost their pearlescent glitter and became solid ice.  Frozen, its form crackled and dissolved into sparkling dust, carried away on the wind, until nothing was left to tell of its existence except for the ring of destruction around where it had fallen. 

Sorey pushed himself off the ground.  He thought at first that his right eye wouldn’t open, until realizing that it had gone blind.  His left arm would not respond to his will to move it, broken and throbbing.

Lailah was gone.  And Mikleo, he couldn’t find him.

 

*  * *

  
  


It was dark and empty.

Lailah had never been this disposed from her physical form in all her years--over a thousand years spent serving the shepherds, using their bodies as her vessel.  She spent more time in their bodies than her own.

And yet this was entirely different.  She was consciousness unattached to any specific point in space or time, unable to see or hear.  And she wasn’t alone.  She could feel the presence of Mikleo all around her, like the scent of rain, so familiar and yet without any individual source.

“This must be very confusing for a young seraph,”  she said, softly.  Her voice was not a sound, but a thought.  “You’ve never resided in an object other than your own body, so to go directly to the very edge of reality is quite a leap.”

_ Lailah _ , came the thought.   _ Teacher. _

“Yes, I’m supposed to be teaching you,” she said.  It could have brought her to tears if she had a body to cry with.  “You can remember, right?  Elysia, where you were raised.  I used to teach you all sorts of things.  Your consciousness has not dispersed into the spiritual leyline.  That means you can go back.”

_ Home _ , the voice said, softly.   _ Sorey. _

“Yes, to Sorey!”

Lailah concentrated, until she was able to project an image of herself--very faint, colorless, and surrounded by empty non-existence.  “Can you do this, Mikleo?”  She waited patiently.  “Can you visualize yourself for me?”

The essence of Mikleo all around her crackled with the energy of his attempts.  Finally, there was a shadow--a thing with a tail and horns, blobby and struggling to maintain its shape.

“No, not that way,” she said.  “Remember you, the real you.  Elysia’s precious boy.  The you that Sorey is so desperately trying to find.”

There was a cry of frustration.

Lailah found herself awash in memories that did not belong to her.  Images, sounds, and other sensations, of Sorey and Mikleo together.  Some of them funny, some of them passionate.  All of them, overflowing with joy.   


Lailah felt their happiness vicariously in her own heart.  “I’m so happy the two of you could find each other,” she said.  “I used to think when you were little, how Sorey would have liked to know you.”

_ White flower... _

“Yes.”  She clasped her hands over her chest.  “Keep trying.  You’re almost there.”

The shadow began to form again, and Lailah held her breath, hoping.  It began to sparkle from deep within, until it burst with stars.  Mikleo’s human shape took form, with his pale seraph’s hair and brilliant violet eyes.

She reached out for him and pulled him to her chest.  “Yes, that’s it.”

“Lailah…  I’m sorry, Lailah.”

She held him in her arms, squeezing.  He was her dear Mikleo, the young seraph she had raised from an infant.  “Don’t be, Mikleo,” she said.  “You’ve done so well.  I’m so proud of you.”

He returned her embrace, tightening his arms around her waist.  She allowed herself to indulge in his embrace for just a moment, then shook her head and pulled him away.

She touched her hand to his cheek and looked into his eyes.  “Quickly now, you have to search out Sorey’s heart in return.  Remember his light, and every detail about him that makes your heart so fond of your time together.  Find a vessel, any drop of water free of malevolence will do--use it ground yourself in that world.  Hold onto the life you love as tight as you can, don’t let go.”  
  


* * *

 

Sorey hobbled to the center of the blast, dizzy from the pain and struggling to stay upright.  At the center of the destruction, where the dragon had turned to ice and disappeared from this world, a pure white form laid motionless.

He ran, ignoring the pain coursing through every nerve in his body.  It was Mikleo, naked and pale as the snow.   


Sorey knelt and lifted him in his remaining functional arm.  “Mikleo,” he said.  He said it over and over again.  Mikleo’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t breathing.  He was cold as a corpse, no color in his cheeks.   


“This doesn’t make sense,” he said in a voice that almost wouldn’t come.  “We’ve done it!  I could feel you, I knew that you were there.  I did exactly what Lailah said.  So why?  Why won’t you open your eyes?  It can’t-- This is too much, it can’t…”   


He clutched Mikleo to him, shaking, and screamed his agony up to the sky, letting his voice echo across the grounds until he was hoarse and breathless.   


Looking around desperately, he saw trampled roses peeking through the crumbled stone and ice.  He laughed and cried all at once, squeezing Mikleo’s cold body against his chest. “It was here,” he said.  “Right here in the garden, you were lying here when I found you, and you were pale and cold like this.”   


He kissed Mikleo’s forehead.  His skin was ice cold.  “Please wake up and smile at me, Mikleo.  Or scowl or laugh at me, or anything.  Tell me I’m being an idiot. I know I am.  But I need you to keep telling me.”

He looked down at Mikleo’s body in his arms.  The unconscious seraph’s form turned translucent and began to fade, like a ghost, passing out of this world.   


“Don’t go,” he said, as tears welled in his eyes.  “I love you.”

But his words could not hold Mikleo to this world.  The solidity of his body flickered and waned like a flame struggling to stay alight, until it was snuffed.  Sorey’s arms passed through empty space, clutching at nothing but sparkling mist, until he was holding himself.

Sobs wracked his body.  His tears left warm trails down his cheeks.  He let the pain come, let the tears pour out of him.  Tears he hadn’t cried in two hundred years.  Mikleo was gone, and for what?  To save his miserable life?  Or to save the world that held such cruelty in it?

Yes.  Mikleo wanted to die for those things.  For Sorey, and his ability to save this world.  Because he loved them.  He couldn’t hate Mikleo for that.  But even though he’d been purified at the end, and hope for this world could be rekindled, Sorey couldn’t stop crying for what Mikleo had given up to save what he loved.

Warm, glittering tears slid down his nose and cheeks, and fell onto the frozen ground beneath him.  Where they fell, their warmth melted soft depressions into the ice.

At first he thought it a trick of his eyes, half blind and clouded over by tears.  But no-- it continued.  His tears pooled together, catching the first glimmer of sunlight as the night ended and the sun rose in the east. 

Sorey held his breath, afraid to hope.   


_ Yeah, you’re an idiot sometimes. _

The water rippled and expanded its shape, until it took the form of a young man, glowing white.  Its features sharpened until Sorey could make out Mikleo’s slender figure, Mikleo’s wisp of hair.  Naked and lovely, no horns or tail--Mikleo’s purest, beautiful form.  


His eyes sparkled amethyst as he opened them, smiling.

“Mikleo!”  Sorey crashed into him, giving no attention to the scream of pain that came from his battered body.   


This was real.  He could feel Mikleo’s arms wrap around him.    


Sorey cried even harder, laughing and snorting.  He hugged Mikleo to his chest, sobbing all over him.  “Mikleo, I love you.  I’ll never leave your side again.  I’ll never let another day pass without telling you that I love you!”

“Ah...”  Mikleo sighed and let himself be smothered. “I love you, too.”

Sorey cupped Mikleo’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply, tasting him, smelling him--anything to reaffirm that they were here together.

Mikleo pulled away.  “Sorey, you’re injured.”

“Yeah, that…”  He looked down at his arm, turning purple where it was broken.  Then, ignoring it, went to kiss Mikleo again.

Mikleo pushed him back, angrily this time.  “Stop it and let me heal you!”

Sorey laughed.  “Come on, Mikleo.  You turned into a dragon and then you almost faded out of existence all together.  A broken arm isn’t much.  I just want to kiss you right now.”

Mikleo was already readying his artes in one hand and raising the other to block Sorey’s face from smothering him again.  Sorey settled for his hand, smooching the palm of it.  Mikleo attempted to ignore this as he applied healing artes to Sorey’s wounds.

“You look like you’ve been chewed up.”

“I very nearly almost was.”

Mikleo scowled.  “That isn’t funny.”

“You’re the one who said it.”

Mikleo huffed.

After the artes were complete, Sorey rotated his arm, testing it.  “Wow, that’s great!  And I can see again, too.”

“You mean you were  _ blind? _ ”

Sorey stood and took off his blue outer shirt.  “Only in one eye.”  He draped it over Mikleo’s bare shoulders.   


Mikleo joined Sorey standing, slipped his arms into the shirt, and began to button it up.  “Please tell me next time you go blind, it’s slightly more important than getting a kiss.”

Sorey pulled Mikleo to him.  “I don’t think so.” He tried to kiss Mikleo again, and got yet another hand in his face.  “What?  What now?”

“Lailah,” Mikleo said.  “Where is she?”

“Oh…”  Sorey felt a pang of guilt that he’d allowed himself to be so overjoyed by Mikleo’s return that he’d forgotten to worry about Lailah.  “She said that if you were purified, she’d be fine.”

They looked around themselves for any sign of Lailah.  Daylight was breaking over the remains of their home.  The ice was melting, revealing what was left of Sorey’s garden.  A few of the roses had survived, although as a result of the dragon’s purification, they had turned white as snow.   


“It’s all gone,” Mikleo said, looking with a pained expression at the collapsed buildings and mess of debris.

A small point of light bubbled towards them from the east where the sun was rising.  It glittered and sparkled with red warmth as it swirled around Sorey.

“Lailah?”

Her laughter sounded faint and far off.  “Yes!  Don’t worry about me, I just need a little time to regain my form.  I can just rest inside of you until then.”  Then the light flew into Sorey’s body.

Mikleo looked into the vague direction of Sorey’s chest, where Lailah had disappeared into.  “So you were okay the whole time.”

“Yes that’s true, but I didn’t want to interrupt your  _ moment _ .”

Mikleo groaned.

Sorey couldn’t help but laugh.  “You earned yourself as much rest as you want, Lailah.  Have some sleep.”

He smiled warmly, the sun shining in his eyes.  He took Mikleo’s hand, small and delicate, in his own. “Nothing’s gone that can’t be replaced,” he said.  He stroked the lines of Mikleo’s chin, following it to his jaw and his ear. He combed his fingers through that silver hair, glittering in the sun.  “I’ve got you, and the world is full of light again.”

“Poetic as usual.” Mikleo said it in a sarcastic tone, but his eyes were brimmed with tears of his own.

Sorey pulled Mikleo to him with an arm around his waist.  Mikleo lifted his head.  They shared a kiss in the garden, in the exact place where their story began, surrounded by pure white flowers, the golden light of the sun pouring over them, under a cloudless sky.   


 

 

***  EPILOGUE ***  


 

 

The great waterworks wheel in Ladylake was as impressive as always.   


Mikleo looked up at it from its base, along with several humans who were doing the exact same thing.  They were all looking in wonder, even if they didn’t know that he was there.  It was a sunny day, and plenty of people had come to wonder at this marvel of human ingenuity.   


He never got tired of it, how the wheel drew fresh and clean water up from the lake.  Then the water would travel through the city’s fountains and wells.  As it filtered into the sewers below, it became dirtied with the filth of humans.  Most seraphs found that disgusting, but Mikleo had to give the humans credit for creating such an efficient system.  The water carried waste  into the aqueducts, where it was redirected into the fields, where that very taint could be used to help the plants grow.  This process would purify the water, and return it to the earth.    


“Ah, there you are!”

Mikleo turned at the sound of Sorey’s voice, as did many of the other tourists.  Sorey didn’t give much mind to the fact that other people couldn’t see seraphim.   


He was wearing his white shepherd’s cloak.  People began to say “Oh, it’s the shepherd!” and ask him for blessings.  This took a few minutes, during which time Mikleo was thoroughly annoyed.

When the others cleared out, Mikleo scowled at Sorey.  “I told you this is where I’d wait,” he sighed.  “Did you forget?  And what’s the big idea calling so much attention to yourself?”

“Uh…”  Sorey scratched his cheek.  “Well, I was really excited, okay.”

Mikleo shook his head in dismay, and leaned into take Sorey’s hand.  They’d been apart for too long.  “Should I take that to mean you found it?”

“Yep!”  Sorey reached into his satchel and retrieved a leather-bound book.  He squeezed Mikleo’s hand hard, grinning.  “Took me a long time to track down a copy, but I’ve finally got it.”

He led Mikleo by their linked hands to a nearby bench to sit and flipped the book open, letting Mikleo hold half of it, to the page where the wheel was illustrated.  “Here it is,” he said.  “Item one, checked!”

Mikleo smiled, examining the illustration and comparing it to the real thing.  It seemed like it had been drawn from their perspective, maybe on this very bench.   “Okay, what’s next, then?”     


Sorey smirked mischievously, and kissed the side of his head.  “How about those hot springs in Marlind?” he asked.  “I bet you’ll turn all red like a lobster.”

Mikleo cringed at the thought of a lobster.  He had never seen one in person, but it sounded terrible, all claws and antennae like a big bug.  “What about the frozen north? We could get all cozy in a cabin, far away from anyone.  Or we could go to the ocean again.  Maybe I’ll like it better if the sun is shining.”

“We’ll do all those things in no particular order,” Sorey said with a soft laugh, waving his hand dismissively.  He rest it back over Mikleo’s where it held the page in the book, and stared at him with that soft gaze that always flustered him a little.  “I got us something else, too.”

“What else did you get?”  Mikleo laughed and folded his arms and gave him a cocky look.  “Is it more butter?  I can’t cook for you here when we’re staying in the inn.”

“Not quite.”  Sorey extended his hand, this time he held two rings in his palm.  They were golden bands, slightly different in diameter.  “I hope I got the right size.”   


He pinched the smaller one between his fingers and took Mikleo’s hand.  Mikleo watched, blush on his face, as Sorey slid the ring onto him.  It fit perfectly.  He stared at his hand, the gold ring glittering there on his finger.

Sorey raised Mikleo’s other hand and pressed the second ring into it.  “Now you put this one on me,” he said.

“Sorey,” Mikleo groaned.  “Don’t you think this is a little too casual for this kind of ceremony?”

“No, it’s perfect,” he said.  “It’s the start of our adventure, and the beginning of the rest of our lives.  I have a new dream now, and it’s to see everything in this world with you at my side.”

Mikleo slipped the ring onto his finger.  “There.”  He sighed.  “It’s done.  Is that it?”

“Not at all.”   


Sorey took him by the shoulders and kissed him.  He was warm and bristling with excitement.  Not to let this moment go so soon, Mikleo worked his hands up to Sorey’s face and cupped them around his cheeks.   


“Now it’s done,” Sorey said, pulling away just far enough to look into Mikleo’s eyes.  He kissed him once more on the forehead, then stood up, hands on his hips, head turned up.  “Now, our adventure can really begin!”

Mikleo stood by his side and hooked an arm through his.   


“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me through this! This fic has brought me so many new experiences, good and bad, and I'm cherishing all of them. Sorry for getting sappy but you guys who have followed this fic commenting on every chapter really helped me through some hard times and I'm just so thankful I could bring this to completion. 
> 
> A lot of people are asking about bonus chapters, more future epilogues, etc. It'll be on a case of whenever inspiration strikes, but I would definitely like to.
> 
> Thanks everyone, I love you.


	16. Bonus 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter? It takes place after Ch. 11 where the sun has come out, and Sorey and Mikleo go back inside to get warm. It's basically more smut, and I'm gonna warn you fam, it gets a little rough. I was debating with myself if I should even add it into the actual story, so it's kind of at the back here as a bonus. So if you're not into the sex stuff then you probably don't want to try to read this. If you are, have fun with my blessing I guess lol ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The tug of Sorey’s hand led him gently back into the manor, through the hall and into his room to his bed.

Sorey stopped there and lifted Mikleo’s hand to his face, cupping his own hand over it against his cheek. “You’re warm,” he said. 

Mikleo thought he could never have as much warmth as the lips that brushed against his fingers. “Am I?”

“Hm.” The sensation of Sorey humming against his knuckles made him feel even warmer. “Most times when I touch you, your skin is cool.”

“Maybe it’s the sun,” Mikleo said.

“Maybe.”

Sorey kissed his hand before letting it go and knelt to start the fire as promised. There was wood in a container by the fireplace, as well as kindling and matchsticks. Soon he had a fire burning without using his powers at all.

The radiant warmth washed through Mikleo from head to toe, until even his freezing toes were warm against the wood floor.

Sorey returned to the side of the bed where Mikleo stood and began kissing the back of his neck. “Does your hair ever grow?” 

“Slowly,” Mikleo said. “But I like it short. You can kiss my neck that way.”

“You could always pull it up.”

“True.”

Mikleo leaned back into his arms and breathed in deeply, smelling firewood and Sorey’s earthy musk. Thick arms wrapped around him and he sighed.

It wasn’t long before he felt Sorey’s hand snaking down his hip to grab the hem of his night shirt. 

He turned, prying himself out of Sorey’s hold in order to raise the shirt over his head and toss it aside, leaving him naked.

“Aw,” Sorey pouted. “I was going to do it slowly.”

He placed his palm firmly against Sorey’s chest, pushing him closer to the bed. “Take your clothes off.” 

“I don’t need,” Sorey began to mumble. “I mean, you don’t need too—it’s fine like it was before.”

“No, it’s not.” 

Mikleo stepped forward and began to unbutton Sorey’s shirt for him.

Sorey grabbed his wrists to stop him. “I was perfectly satisfied.”

“With my flesh,” Mikleo said. 

“Well that was good, but not just that. When I saw your skin flushed and heard you moaning my name, that’s all that I needed. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“What about what _I_ need?”

Sorey’s eyes widened at that. “I thought I was thorough with that part.”

“Take your clothes off.”

Sorey chuckled half a laugh nervously as he began to unbutton. “If my sweet flower insists...”

“Don’t try to aggravate your way out of this.” 

He watched, smirking, as Sorey unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it. Then his pants loosened and fell.

Mikleo had dressed and washed Sorey before, and had seen his nakedness. It was quite different however with him standing tall over him, their bare bodies almost touching. He could feel the heat of his skin in the air between them.

“I want the same as you do,” he said, as he lifted his head to look into Sorey’s eyes. “I want to see you drip with sweat and hear my name from your lips.”

Sorey gave a small nervous laugh and a blush spread across his face—a blushing lord of calamity trying not to giggle. “You should be the poet,” he said. “You’re—“

He cut him short with a desperate kiss, pressing their bodies together with his arms wrapped around Sorey’s neck, pulling him closer. 

Skin to skin he was impossibly warm. Mikleo wanted more of it, Sorey’s body plastered against him hotter than the fire that warmed the room. 

Sorey sank back, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Let’s do this properly this time,” he said, pulling away from Mikleo’s needy lips. 

Mikleo saw his mouth darkened red from his kiss and couldn’t wait, he straddled himself across Sorey’s lap and pushed him down on his back.

“Let me get in the bed!” He laughed, struggling under Mikleo. “You little monster.”

“I’ll be your monster,” Mikleo said, breathing hard, eyes blown. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t see.”

“Whoa!” Sorey sat up and pushed Mikleo away by his shoulders. “Can’t we do it gently?”

Mikleo fought against him to reclaim the space in his arms. “Maybe when it’s your turn.” He pushed and bit into Sorey’s neck, not hard enough to break the skin, but surely enough to bruise. 

Sorey groaned a deep, guttural sound and gave himself to Mikleo, crashing back into the bed, letting his arms fall by his sides. “Ah, I do love you so.” He cradled Mikleo’s head against his neck, threading tanned fingers into pale hair. “Although, I doubt I taste very good.”

“I just want to feel my teeth against your skin,” he said, gnawing gently at Sorey’s ear. “Now that I can touch you.”

“Knock yourself out.”

He smoothed his hand down Sorey’s chest and felt hard nubs. His thigh brushed against Sorey’s erection. 

Too impatient for much foreplay, he moved down the bed to sit between Sorey’s legs and licked his cock.

“Just don’t bite that,” he said, a genuinely worried look on his face.

Mikleo grinned and teased him with his teeth. Sorey threw his head back.

He wanted to prepare Sorey for what he promised, and used a bit of spare oil from the bed side to do so. 

“Ah,” Sorey grunted as his finger slipped inside, slick and slender enough to probe deep without causing him pain. He was soft and warm inside, and tighter than Mikleo had ever imagined. 

“My Lord of Calamity,” he said fondly, and kissed the inside of Sorey’s thigh. 

“Don’t fuck around,” Sorey said though his teeth. “I want you inside me, do your worst.”

“Mikleo ignored his plea and dig deeper, with two fingers. Sorey’s hips bucked, and he knew what he wanted. He rubbed into that spot in circles and continued planting whisper-soft kisses along Sorey’s shaft.

The cries of frustration he got in return were worth it, and he relished the moment. “Stop teasing me,” Sorey said, almost crying as his hips bucked again. “Just fuck me already.”

“Beg me, oh lord of Calamity.”

“Please, _please_ , you stupid poltergeist.”

“Very well.”

He lifted one of Sorey’s legs, big and heavy, over his own, and positioned him half-turned over so as to press into that spot as best he could. 

With his hand against one of the perfectly formed muscles of Sorey’s ass, he thought it may be wise to cast healing as he sunk his cock into him.. 

Sorey sighed at the relief. Mikleo wondered how it felt, the hot intrusion of his dick and the cool relief of his artes at once inside him. 

“You’re so tight,” he said as he pushed in farther. A benefit of his smaller size was that Sorey didn’t flinch or whine even when he was completely sheathed, his sack pressed against the split of Sorey’s ass. “And hot. Hotter on the inside.”

“You made me some promises,” Sorey grunted, as the initial rush of his penetration faded away. “Something about blinding me?”

Mikleo was certain to live up to them, and thrust hard to start. Sorey didn’t buck or cry out, and that frustrated him.

“Is that all you have?” He smirked. “Come on.”

Mikleo pounded harder, and this time got a little hiss. 

“Harder than that.”

He grabbed hold of Sorey’s leg and rammed himself into it, eliciting a heft grunt out of Sorey. That was it. 

Again, and Sorey’s voice rang out in the room, filling his ears with that sound he had wanted. He bucked wildly against him. “It feels so good,” he said, as pleasure rushed to his head and muddled his thoughts. “You’re so good.”

“You’re pretty deep in there,” Sorey tried to laugh, but choked on it as Mikleo pounded into him yet again. “But I could take more.”

He couldn’t keep it up. Sorey’s face twisted up each time he moved his hips against him, and the heat and pressure sending waves of sensation, pooling in his stomach, making his legs tingle and his head float.

He came inside Sorey, howling and ears ringing. 

His body crashed to Sorey’s side with his arms thrown over him, weak and spent.

“No nap yet,” Sorey said, lifting Mikleo’s pliable arms. “My turn.”

“Sorey, I’m—”

Sorey slicked his hand up with what remained of the oil on his legs and surely some of Mikleo’s sweat and come, and lifted Mikleo’s butt into the air. He plowed in and began to rock back and forth before Mikleo could protest.

He cried out. Sorey’s cock was much fatter than his and long enough to press hard against his insides. His eyes teared up and he gagged as Sorey pulled him up by the arm.

Sorry held him with his back against against his chest and stroked his cock all while still pounding into him so hard he could choke.

“Sorey, I can’t—”

“I’ll stop if it hurts,” Sorey whispered into his ear. “Just say the word.” Nice of him to offer after he’d stabbed him with his cock.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Mikleo cried, desperate now that his pain had subsided and his need rose again. “You’re so big inside me Sorey,” he whispered back. “Push me down, fuck me harder.”

He got his wish as Sorey shoved him back into his hands and knees and gripped his hips, pulling and pushing him against his cock just as hard as he was pounding.

Mikleo moaned rhythmically with each thrust so loud that his voice must have echoed across the halls.

“You’re so beautiful right now,” Sorey said, panting. “My flower, so small and tight, my cock barely fits inside you.”

“You asshole.”

“Call me names louder, why don’t you?”

“Master,” Mikleo shouted. “My master!”

“Stop that!” He objected, but it felt to Mikleo like he liked it, as the arc of his arcs grew and became more erratic. “Say my name for me, Mikleo. My love.”

“Sorey,” Mikleo sighed. Sorey was fucking his brains out, he could barely form the words, “Sorey, oh _Sorey_.”

Mikleo came again, harder than before. A string of his seed shot across the bed and up against his stomach as he cried out unintelligible sounds, slurring Sorey’s name.

And his wild convulsion threw Sorey over the edge. He could feel himself filling up with sticky semen as Sorey released into him, pumping slowly until it was all out.

Mikleo fell face first into the bed and Sorey crashed beside him. He slung an arm over Mikleo’s shoulder and held him, kissing him any place along his neck and back that his lips could touch.

“What happened to gentle?” Mikleo asked, gasping for breath. Regret set in as it occurred to him how sore he would be later.

“I told you, you’d make me want more.”

Mikleo rolled over and faced Sorey. His face was still red and there was sweat beading all over him. “You made me want it too,” he said, nuzzling against his chin. “I wanted to feel everything, and it was good.”

“As long as you had a good time.”

Mikleo opened his eyes and looked up at Sorey. “So,” he said, trying to hide the touch of anxiety in his voice. “Was it good? I mean, as good as when you swallowed?”

“Yes.” He pecked a kiss against his forehead. “I especially liked watching you make love to me.”

“Hmm.” Mikleo had to admit he was proud. He blushed, remembering the things he had said. “I like letting go,” he said. “Just doing whatever I want.”

“I like having you all to myself.” 

Sorey cupped his chin and kissed him. “My love, light of my life. My poison flower, my pure white beauty in the darkness.”

Mikleo scowled and his his face in a pillow. “Oh, could you shut up.”


End file.
